


To Hunt A Vampire

by TopHatCat



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Turned Into Vampire, Family Feels, Hosea whump, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Monster Hunters, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Vampire Dutch, Vampires, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), Werewolf Charles, and he's really mean to hosea, blood drinking is kinda pleasurable i guess?, but it's not his fault, charthur (only if you want it tho), dutch is turned into a vampire, vandermatthews
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:47:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24113764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TopHatCat/pseuds/TopHatCat
Summary: "If we were the same, time would have no meaning, we would be a family, forever, and nothing and no one would be able to separate us ever again.”After a hunt gone wrong, Dutch is transformed into a vampire, but enteral life isn't enough for him; he wants someone to share it with, and that someone is Hosea. With the help of monster hunters Sadie and Charles, Arthur and John must find their fathers before it's too late.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Charles Smith, Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 20
Kudos: 69





	1. Stolen

A bedroom. The curtains were pulled wide open despite the time of night and moonlight streamed in to illuminate the small room, aided by a crackling fire and numerous candles that stood scattered over various surfaces. In the center of the room sat a bed, and in it lay Arthur. His eyes were closed, but he didn’t appear to be in a restful sleep; his eyes flickered under their lids and his face was pale. The corner of a bandage was just visible on his chest, the rest of it hidden under the blankets.

Beside the bed, in a hardbacked chair, sat Hosea. The older man’s arms were crossed over his chest and he too seemed asleep, but his quick breathing revealed otherwise. He had not gotten a proper night’s rest in a long time, not since Arthur had gotten hurt, not since they’d come to this safehouse, and not since….

Hosea’s eyes snapped open. There was no obvious change to the room, but he looked around anyway, studying the shadowed corners and large window. Only embers popping and the moon greeted him, and he turned to check on Arthur. The young man was still fast asleep, and when Hosea touched his forehead, there was less heat that before. Giving a silent thanks for small miracles, the man leaned back in his chair, almost letting himself relax.

Then the chill came.

It started in his lower back and crept up his spine, spreading icy fingers over his shoulders and causing the hairs on his arms and back of his neck to raise in warning. His entire body shivered once, and he was wide wake again, rising to his feet as his hand grasped for the glass vial on the nightstand.

There was no discernable moment when Dutch entered the room. First, he wasn’t there, and then, suddenly, he was, standing in the doorway, black hair and black cape nearly blending with the shadows, his pale skin and gleaming red eyes contrasting sharply with the surrounding darkness. At the sight of him, Hosea’s heartbeat picked up and, by the minute smile that curled Dutch’s lips, he knew the vampire could sense it.

“How did you get past John?” the man asked, fingers turning white around the bottle of holy water as the thought of the teenager lying dead in the corridor infiltrated his mind. “Did you kill him?”

“Of course not.” Dutch’s voice was soft and soothing, his expression almost wounded, as if he couldn’t imagine that Hosea would ever think such a thing of him. “I would never hurt our son, Hosea.”

“You hurt him!” Hosea flung an arm toward Arthur. “Look at him! He nearly died!”

Dutch moved forward, as if to go the bed, but Hosea stepped between, halting the vampire in his path.

“Don’t.”

Dutch stopped, and Hosea lifted the vial, hand shaking. “There’s holy water all around the bed, you won’t get to him again.”

“I’m not here for him,” Dutch replied, settling back on his heels. “I wished to see you.”

Hosea’s mouth pulled into a frown. “So you’ve seen me. Can’t you just leave us alone?

“Leave you?” Dutch looked offended, and the attitude was so familiar it hurt. “Hosea…I love you, all of you.”

“How can you?” the other man snapped. “Look at you, you’re….” He couldn’t finish the sentence; it was still too difficult to believe.

Dutch opened his arms, blood-red vest bright as a beacon as he spread his hands out to the side. To Hosea’s eyes, he looked like giant black bat. “I’m better than I ever was, darling! Can’t you understand? Indestructible, powerful…Imagine what our life could be if we were all such beings! Imagine what we could _do_!” His voice trembled with excitement, and his eyes flashed eagerly, staring into Hosea’s face to find agreement, but the older man just shook his head.

“That isn’t life, Dutch. That’s hell on earth.” He felt the weight of the Arthur’s presence behind him as he spoke. “I won’t subject my boys to that.”

If he expected Dutch to get angry at that, he was wrong. The vampire only lowered his arms, becoming a dark pillar once more. “Think of yourself for a moment, Hosea,” the creature said softly. “Think of how much more time we could have together. If we were the same, time would have no meaning, we would be a family, forever, and nothing and no one would be able to separate us ever again.”

Hosea recognized the syrupy tones his lover used; they had often coaxed him into things he hadn’t wanted to do, always teasing and loving and insistent. That was Dutch’s way. So familiar was it, that Hosea didn’t recognize that under the words was something beyond Dutch’s usual persuasion. Laced between every syllable was something dark, a demand that wormed its way into Hosea’s brain and began to grow. He tried to turn his head away, but Dutch said,

“Look at me,” with such conviction that his gaze lifted and met the glowing red irises of the vampire’s eyes.

He was trapped. The thrall that slipped from Dutch’s tongue had taken hold, soaking his consciousness like melted honey, making everything fuzzy and warm. He wondered that he should feel so comfortable; he was certain there was something he should be concerned about.

“You don’t really need to keep holding that vial, do you, love? It’s must be tiresome to grip it so tightly. Just relax…everything will be fine.”

Of course. Dutch. Dutch was here and he’d always gotten them out of trouble before. There was really nothing to worry about…. With a slow nod, eyes glassy, Hosea let the holy water fall from his grasp. It hit the carpet without breaking and rolled away, coming to rest just under the bed. Dutch held out his hands, crimson eyes never breaking from Hosea’s.

“Come to me.”

He obeyed. His steps were faltering, balance altered by sudden tiredness. All he wanted to do was sleep, and being pulled into Dutch’s embrace felt like heaven. Somehow, he didn’t care that the arms that held him were as cold as ice, and there was no beating heart in the chest that was pressed against his own warm body.

“Perfect,” Dutch murmured, one hand petting up the back of Hosea’s neck and into his hair. Curling his fingers into the blond locks, he tilted his lover’s head back, observing the dazed expression that looked back at him. Swiping his tongue over sharp teeth, the vampire pressed a tender kiss to Hosea’s neck, feeling the blood pumping just under the skin. With a throaty growl, he drew back a fraction, then sunk his fangs into the unguarded flesh.

Hosea had imagined this moment a thousand time. He’d wake up in a cold sweat from a dream where he screamed with pain as Dutch drank his blood. But there was no pain. The bite didn’t hurt at all, instead, it almost felt _good_. The warmth he’d gotten from Dutch’s voice was multiplied tenfold, washing over his entire body and, even as he felt his heart begin to panic at the loss of blood, he didn’t want it to stop. Unconsciously, he gripped Dutch’s sleeve, weakly trying to get himself _closer_ , and a needy moan escaped his lips.

Arthur was having a nightmare. He stood at the edge of a cliff; behind him, a drop into gray nothingness, before him, a looming shadowy figure that drew closer with each breath he took. The young man could hear the blood rushing in his ears, and he took another step backwards, boot heel crumbling the dirt at the lip of the precipice.

“Stay back!” he yelled, brandishing…what? He had a stick in his hand, a pointed length of wood that he aimed at the oncoming threat. It ignored his threat, speeding closer and closer with no sign of stopping.

It hit him in a rush of darkness and smoke that burned his lungs and made his eyes tear so he could barely see. His chest took the full force of the blow and before he knew it, he was toppling backwards over the edge of the cliff.

“Hosea!” he screamed, arms flailing, but his hands caught nothing, and no one caught him as he fell down, down, down-.

Arthur jerked forward, sitting up from a pool of his own sweat. He wasn’t at the base of the cliff, but rather a bedroom, _the_ bedroom, the one Hosea and John had brought him to after…. His hand went to his middle, felt the bandages there. Right.

He lifted his chin, searching the chair beside the bed, but it was empty. Then his gaze travelled farther across the room and he froze, horrified at the sight before him.

Dutch stood there, looming like the thing in his dream, but in the waking world he had Hosea in his grasp. One arm was curved around the older man’s back, the other hand supporting his head. Blood ran freely down Hosea’s too-pale neck as the vampire feasted, so engrossed in his meal that he remained oblivious to Arthur’s waking.

For a second, the young man couldn’t move. Then he let out a hoarse cry, struggling to push off the blankets that trapped his legs. His fingers scrabbled for the wooden stake concealed beneath the pillow, desperate for the weapon.

At the sound, Dutch’s head snapped up, mouth twisted in a grimace smeared with red, pupils blown wide with bloodlust, and in his arms, Hosea let out a shuddering breath and went limp. The vampire’s grip tightened, holding Hosea to him as if the man was a possession he feared would be taken away, and Arthur’s rage exploded.

He surged off the bed, the only thought in his head to _get Hosea free_ , but his body protested, the wound in his middle screaming out at the quick movement. He stumbled, and his hands hit the floor as a cough wrecked his lungs.

Dutch withdrew from him like shadow from flame, and when Arthur forced his head up again, he was gone. And so was Hosea.

“John,” he choked out. Then louder, “ _John_!” as he pushed himself to his knees, one arm curled over his middle in a fruitless effort to stem the pain. By the time the bedroom door flew open, he had collected himself enough to refrain from falling again.

“Arthur!” John was at his side in a moment. “What’s wrong? Where’s Hosea?”

“ _He_ took him,” Arthur rasped, gritting his teeth. “Dutch.”

John’s face, red with panic, whitened. He helped Arthur rise and sit on the edge of the bed, sinking down beside his brother. “So he’s…he’s….?”

“I don’t know.” Arthur grimaced, trying not to imagine the scenarios Hosea could be in right now. He didn’t know which would be worse; dead or turned. He didn’t think he could handle killing both of them. There was a third option, one that Arthur dreaded thinking about but would give them the time they needed. Dutch, no matter how far gone he became, was still Dutch, and if there was one thing he loved in this world, it was Hosea. If they were to even begin to hope Hosea could be saved, they would have to imagine that Dutch would have enough humanity to refrain from hurting the man he loved. The man they _all_ loved.

“Arthur?”

Yanked out of his thoughts, Arthur glanced over at John. The teen was sitting with hands tucked between his legs, eyes wide and staring at him with a look of fear. Arthur felt a stab of pity, reminding himself that, for all his bluster, John really wasn’t that old; he still had some growing up to do. Putting a hand on the teenager’s knee, he mustered up a smile.

“We’ll get ‘im back. I promise.”

“But what if we can’t.”

“Hey,” Arthur said, his tone stern. “What are we?”

John bit his lip before answering. “Monster hunters.”

“And what do we do?”

“‘Save those as need savin’ and kill that what needs killin’,” his brother quoted, echoing the words Dutch was so fond of saying. Arthur squeezed his leg briefly before rising slowly to his feet.

“Exactly. I’m planning on the saving bit. Now come, we need to get a move on if we’re gonna find them.”

John got up, following Arthur to the chest at the end of the bed. Opening it, the hunter found his shirt and coat intact, as well as his battered hat and other equipment. He picked up a sawed-off shotgun and made sure it was loaded as John watched.

“You sure you’re okay to do this, Arthur? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” he replied, replacing the shotgun and picking up a wooden stake. Flipping it once in his hand, the weight of it hitting his palm mirrored the heaviness on his shoulders. There was no way he could just sit on his ass now, chest wound or not. He needed to get to Hosea, needed to save him before it was too late and he lost both of his fathers to one hellish curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo, it's been so long since I posted something substantial! It's good to be back, baby!


	2. The Bloody Menace

Hosea woke up in a bed.

Rather, he regained consciousness in a bed; it didn’t feel like waking up after a relaxing nap. Instead, his entire body felt like he had taken a nose-dive off a cliff and somehow survived. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he did was let out a soft groan of pain and try to get his vision to focus.

After a few moments of lying still, his eyes started working and he found himself looking at a deep green canopy over the mattress. A quick glance around and he took in the rest of the room; stone walled, sparsely furnished with a regal looking sofa and chair, a gold leaf vanity, and a set of dressers. A massive fireplace stood cold at the end of the room.

When he sat up, his brain roared in agony, forcing him to press the palms of his hands to his eyes until the pounding stopped. A dull pain on his neck caught his attention next, and when he fingered the linen wrapping around his throat, everything came crashing down on him.

Dutch. Dutch had come to their safehouse. The vampire had come for _him_. He’d talked so beautifully, his eyes so red, like pools of ruby red liquid….

Hosea gasped, and leapt off the bed, rushing to the vanity. He gazed into the mirror, and a pitiful wave of relief washed over him when he could look at his own reflection. So, Dutch hadn’t turned him, he was still human. But the vampire _had_ drunk from him, that much was clear; his face was haggard and pale, and his knees were weak. Sinking into the vanity’s chair, Hosea covered his eyes, trying to calm himself enough to think straight.

He had to get out of here, wherever here was. There was little he could do to fight Dutch, not with his lover having inhuman strength and himself in a state of frail disrepair, but if he could escape, get back to the boys…. They’d have a chance together.

His heart ached at the thought of Arthur and John, worrying away. He didn’t doubt that they thought him dead or worse. Thinking of the two young men bolstered his spirits and he pushed himself up from the chair, ignoring the way the room wobbled when he tried to stand. The pain in his neck flared and an image of white teeth stained red flashed across his mind. Swallowing the bile that rose into his throat, Hosea gripped the door handle and found it unlocked.

The corridor was devoid of life, boasting only discarded spider skins and dust that settled on everything, from unlit candles to the portraits on the walls. The carpet beneath Hosea’s boots sent up a puff of mold with each step, and he put a hand over his mouth to stop the cough that welled up. The only light came from an orange flickering torch at the very end of the corridor. From what little he could see, the flame seemed situated above a staircase, so he headed in that direction.

The quiet was unsettling and Hosea wondered where Dutch was. The place he was currently in appeared very castle-like, and the chilly air told him they were no longer in the same forest as the safehouse. Perhaps the mountains? There was always snow in the highest peaks….

His suspicions about the buildings structure were answered soon enough; the stairs led downward and soon opened up on one side, allowing Hosea to peer over the railing into what looked like an entry hall, considering the massive double doors at the far end. A sweeping staircase, carpeted in red, led down to the wide-open hall that was barren except for more dust. Hosea paused at the top of those steps, looking at the castle doors. One of them was slightly ajar, beckoning him to enter the snowy realm beyond. Nothing stood in his way. There was no sign of anything living or dead, or undead, and Hosea ran.

The temperature in the hall, already chilled, dropped. Hosea moved as fast as he could, stumbling down the steps, kicking up the inch of dust on the marble floor as the door slowly swung closed, reaching out, desperately, reaching-.

_Boom._

The door thudded shut against its partner. Hosea slammed into wood, palms wrapping uselessly around handles that wouldn’t turn, yanking and tugging as tears built in his eyes. Dizziness overcoming him, he sank to his knees as his lungs hacked out the coughs he’d fought to keep in. Kneeling with forehead against the door, fingers still gripping the handles over his head, he felt akin to a lamb cowering from a butcher in a slaughterhouse.

The butcher’s hand rested on his shoulder, the vampire materializing beside him without warning, and the man’s eyes involuntarily squeezed shut. Dutch’s touch had never been so frightening, and yet Hosea could barely even flinch, too preoccupied with heaving air into his empty lungs.

“You’re not well,” came the low voice behind him.

“I’ve lost a lot of blood,” Hosea wheezed out, shocked that he could be witty at a time like this. “Leave me alone.”

“I can’t abandon you while you’re like this.”

Hosea marveled at kindness in Dutch’s voice, swatted at the sudden hold on his arm. “Leave!”

The hand on his shoulder shifted, moved to the back of his neck. Fingers wrapped around the column of flesh, thumb pressuring down on the bite mark under the bandage, drawing a pained gasp from the man. Dutch’s mouth was directly beside his ear then, saying,

“Did you not _enjoy it_ , Hosea?”

Hosea’s eyes flew open, staring down at the ground as Dutch’s fingers probed and prodded over the mark.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t. That moment as I drew your _very life from your veins_. You _wanted_ it.” Lungs exhaled a dry breath over Hosea’s skin, the action a habit rather than necessity. “And by God…so did I.”

Hosea’s body lurched forward of its own accord. He slapped a hand over his mouth, trying to keep the physical evidence of his disgust in check, but his stomach betrayed him, expunging its contents onto his lap and the floor. When there was nothing left to purge but clear fluid that burned his throat, Hosea curled in on himself, trembling. He was no longer in command of his ravaged, exhausted body, and didn’t fight Dutch lifting him bridal style into strong cold arms.

“Come, love,” the vampire purred, tucking the man’s head under his chin. “We’ll put you to bed…. You’ll be used to my treatment before long, I promise.”

Hosea’s eyes slipped shut as Dutch carried him back up the staircase, and a tear rolled down his cheek, resting briefly where his skin met cloth, then fading into a dark spot. It wasn’t simply the idea of the vampire drinking his blood that sickened him…it was the fact that Dutch could make him like it that brought tears to his eyes, and whether Hosea wanted it or not was under the vampire’s control.

“What’s the plan?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where do you think they are?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what-?”

Arthur cut off John’s tirade of by reaching over the table and pulling the teen’s hat down over his eyes. “I don’t know!” he said. “Stop asking!”

“You don’t know a lot,” John grumbled, adjusting his hat. He sat back in the corner booth, arms crossed and looking irritated, but he shut up, and that’s all Arthur needed for the moment.

The hunter took a long swallow from the bottle he’d ordered and looked around the barroom. It was moderately busy, for the hour of the morning, with patrons ordering breakfast and tea. The waitress had looked at him funny when he’d requested whiskey so early in the day. Undoubtedly this place was a little higher class than others he’d frequented, but it was the closest inn to their safehouse, and they both deserved a hot meal before continuing on their journey. Whatever that meant. He honestly had no idea where he was taking them or where Dutch had taken Hosea. All he had to go on was old haunts and rumors, but so far, no amount of questions had gotten him the answer he was looking for.

“Are we ever gonna find them?” John asked.

 _Them_.

Ever since leaving the safehouse, carrying what they could of supplies and weapons, Arthur’s mind had mostly gone to rescuing Hosea. Sure, he cared for Dutch, but Hosea was alive and breathing, or at least they hoped he was. They might not be able to save Dutch when all this was over, but John had latched onto the idea that all of them were getting out of this alive, and Arthur didn’t have the heart to dissuade him, or himself.

“We will,” Arthur replied, hoping his tone was reassuring. “After all, we’ve tracked vampires before. How much harder can this case be?”

“You boys going after Aldric?”

Both young men glanced up at the inquiry. Standing over their table was a woman wearing a large black leather jacket and sporting a fearsome looking crossbow on her back. She was looking at them pointedly and the two shared a glance before John said,

“None of your business.”

Just as Arthur replied, “Why do you ask?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, which is it?”

Frowning at his brother, the hunter tried again. “Why do you think we’re hunting Aldric?”

She shrugged. “He’s the only vampire in these parts and you two have been discussing vampires for the last half hour.”

“What’s it to you?” John shot out, still looking suspicious. Arthur groaned and pointed at the woman.

“You fool! Don’t you recognize Sadie Adler? ‘The Bloody Menace’? The vampire hunter?”

John’s eyebrows nearly shot off the top of his head, and Sadie grinned. “Nice to meet you, kid,” she said, holding out her hand. John took it, looking like he was going to pass out right then and there.

John successfully quieted, Arthur turned back to Sadie. “Not Aldric. We killed him a fortnight ago.”

Sadie’s expression was one of surprise. “You two? Not to judge, but he weren’t exactly an easy foe.”

“We….” Arthur took another drink, wetting his throat which had suddenly gone dry. “We were with our two fathers. Aldric, he uh, he got to our da.”

“I’m sorry, kids,” Sadie said, her tone softening. “It’s a terrible thing.”

“That ain’t all!” John said. “He turned into a vampire and came back and got my other pa and now we gotta save them before it’s too late!”

Arthur nodded, and before he could think about it too much, he asked, “Do you think you could help us?”

Sadie was quiet for a moment, and Arthur knew what she was thinking. Help two young men kill their own father? Was it worth it? But she was a hunter through and through. “I’ll do it,” she said, “But I don’t work for free, ya know.”

“We got coin,” Arthur said, thrilled she offered her services at all. He stood up from his seat, eager to be off. “When can we go?”

Sadie’s hand met his chest, pushing him back down. “Hold your horses!” she said, “We ain’t even got a plan!” Then, noticing how he gasped and clutched his middle, she asked, “You alright there, son?”

Arthur gritted his teeth. “Yeah, it’s nothing.”

Sadie eyed him, but didn’t ask more. Instead, she grabbed a chair and sat at the end of the booth, arms folded on the table. “You know where to start looking?”

When they both shook their heads, she let out a little sigh. Sitting back, she tipped the front legs of the chair off the ground, looking from one young hunter to the other as if she were god and they were her disciples. “First things first. Location. Where’s a place your da would go?”

John furrowed his brow as he thought, and Arthur’s brain went over each spot they’d been to in recent years; every safe house, abandoned mansion, and decrepit church was tossed around in his head, and then one location jumped out at him, and his hand flew across the table, gripping John’s arm.

“That castle,” he said, breath coming short with excitement and dread. “The one with the warlock. Dutch thought it was so cool and Hosea hated it.”

Sadie blinked. “Hosea? Hosea Matthews? The writer?”

Arthur nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Sadie crossed her arms, impressed. “I’ve read most of his reports on ghosts. That man knows his spooks.” She let the chair fall back to all four of its legs. “Anyway, you’re talking about a castle?”

“We killed a warlock,” John said, picking at the splinters on the table as he talked. “He had this big ol’ fortress in the mountains and Dutch said that if he’d been a monster, that’s the exact sorta place he’d live in.”

“Better than no place to start, I guess.” Sadie got to her feet. “Gimmie your names, kids.”

“John, and I’m not a kid.”

“Arthur, and he _is_ a kid.”

Sadie smirked. “Sure. You got horses?”

“Sure,” Arthur replied.

“Fantastic. So do I, and a friend.”

“A friend?” John tossed the wood splinter he’d been playing with on the floor. “What kind of friend?”

“A good one.” Sadie headed for the door, waving them along behind her. “Folk don’t take too kindly to him, so he’s out with the mares. His name is Charles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadie is always a badass, no matter what universe she's in.


	3. The Werewolf

Arthur hadn’t expected a werewolf. 

When Sadie said that folk didn’t like Charles, he’d assumed the man was grumpy or got into fights easily, or _something_. He hadn’t figured on walking out of the tavern and coming face to face with a tall burly man who, for all intents and purposes, looked human. Except for his eyes. 

Charles’s irises were a deep golden yellow and seemed to peer straight into Arthur’s soul when Sadie made them shake hands. John outright refused to at first and Sadie snapped at him to be opened minded before they saddled up and were off.

Arthur couldn’t blame his brother; werewolves weren’t known for their kindness or compassion, even when the moon wasn’t full. Not to mention it had been one of the furry beasts that had given the younger kid his facial scars. That had been a rough week.

How Sadie had managed to get to know this one, let alone call him _friend_ was beyond Arthur. But he didn’t push it; after all, they needed the hunter’s help and he was fairly sure she wouldn’t take kindly to continuous complaints about her chosen travelling companion.

Still, he kept an eye on Charles all the time they rode. The young hunter had taken up position at the back of the horse train, as he usually did, so he could observe everything that was happening. Not once did he see Charles show signs of being any other than what he seemed to be; a big, quiet man.

They made camp that night under tall pine trees. The trunks stretched upwards a good fifty feet before any branches spread out, and their beds were softened with needles that had fallen over the course of many years. A spring ran nearby, bubbling over rocks as it widened into a crick. It was a beautiful place all together.

“I’ll hunt something for us,” Charles said in his low voice, the only thing he’d said since ‘hello’ that morning. Before Arthur’s eyes, the form of human warped, fur growing outward to cover his entire body, back hunching, face elongating into a snout with fearsome teeth. John’s fingers gripped Arthur’s sleeve as they watched Charles shake from his clothes and bound away into the growing shadows of the forest.

Arthur turned to Sadie, who was coaxing a spark into flames, completely ignoring the transformation that had happened a few feet away. “He was born a werewolf, then. Not bitten.”

“He ain’t cursed in the typical sense, no,” Sadie replied, blowing on the embers. “He’s not stuck to shifting at the full moon. But that don’t mean he likes it.” She motioned to John. “Grab some more sticks, kid. And you,” she pointed at Arthur. “See if you can fetch us some clean water from that brook.”

Later that evening, as Sadie was regaling John with tales of her previous escapades, which included a zombie fight that had the teen’s eyes wider than saucers, Arthur took his journal and slipped back to the river. He settled onto a fallen log and opened the book, prepared to use the final snatches of sunlight to sketch the area before night truly fell. He got the water down, and the pines, and was starting on a curious bird that was watching him from a rock, when a rustle in the bushes caught his attention. The sound was large enough that his hand settled to his shotgun, and he waited, senses razor sharp.

Then the bushes across the river parted, and something large and furred came out of the underbrush, two rabbits in its mouth. 

Charles.

The werewolf placed his catches on the bank, and stepped into the water, moving toward the middle, where the currents pushed insistently at his belly. Arthur remained still and quiet, watching as the fur melted off his body, leaving human skin behind that the wolf washed clean. When he had nearly returned to human form again, Charles stumbled and almost fell, but he caught himself, returning to the bank. He sat down on the pebbles and, even from this distance, Arthur could see his chest heaving with deep breaths. When the hunter lifted his eyes higher, they were met with the golden orbs of the werewolf.

Rising, Charles picked up the rabbits and waded across to where Arthur was sitting, coming to a stop in front of him, water dripping down his skin. The hunter didn’t know what to say, embarrassed, and grabbed his coat from where he’d set it. He jumped a little when Charles accepted it, tying it around his waist and moving to sit beside him.

“What are you drawing?”

He hadn’t expected the question, and it took a moment to answer. “Just- nature.”

“Hm.”

They said nothing for a long moment. Arthur wondered what Charles wanted from him. Should he speak to him? Should he ignore him? It was a little disconcerting to be suddenly joined by a half-naked werewolf and watch the moon rise. The satellite was not quite full in the sky, and sent down a blanket of white light over them and the river, sparkling off the water like diamonds.

Several long, confusing, yet peaceful minutes later, Charles got to his feet. “Come eat,” he said, and left, walking back to where Sadie and John’s voices rose from the trees.

 _“I just sat…and watched the moon rise with a werewolf,’_ Arthur thought, closing his journal. _‘And we weren’t trying to kill each other.’_

 _And he was half-naked,_ a tiny voice in his head prompted, but he ignored it. The night was odd enough, and he was hungry. Getting his feet, he trailed Charles back to camp as the moon rose every higher into the velvet night sky.

-

The same moonlight that shone down on the small band of hunters also infiltrated the clouds polished the mountain castle walls with silver. In one of the towers the drapery was pulled back, allowing the figure beyond the glass a clear view of the rocky cliffs and sheer ranges of the surrounding peaks. The vampire watched as the moon ascended into the heavens, then turned into the candlelit room behind him.

He had no need for the flames; as a creature of the night he could see better in darkness than he could in light, but the luminance wasn’t for him.

Dutch crossed to the bed that sat in the middle of the room, coming to a halt beside it and observing its lone occupant. Hosea lay on top of the blankets, and while the room was cold enough to cause his breath to escape in faint white clouds, his clothes and hair were damp with sweat. Despite his sleep, the man did not look restful; his brow pinched, and his breaths were uneven. Dutch had carried him back up to the room, cleaned him of his own filth, and then retreated to the window, where he had stood for a long hour, thinking.

He had what he wanted. Hosea, here with him in this castle. He found it amusing that he now resided in a place where he had hunted down a monster only months before. That life felt like a different existence altogether, and with each day that lifelessness consumed him, he forgot a bit more, cared a little less. And he didn’t mind.

 _This_ was what he was now, not that. Not a human, a vampire; not dead, but undead.

But they were weak.

 _He_ had been weak, pitiful once. Humans were nothing but fleshy sacks of blood to be farmed and feasted from. He had once found himself mighty! A warrior among men, fighting for a brighter future, one free of evil…free of monstrosities. How wrong he had been then…but he knew better now. Aldric had seen to that.

And yet…he had gone back for Hosea.

He sank to the edge of the bed, running his tongue over the sharp teeth in his mouth. When he had gone to the safehouse, he had gone with the intention to turn Hosea, to make his lover a vampire so they could be together forever. But the rage in the man’s eyes, the terror, the sorrow, had stopped that plan in its tracks. Hosea did not want to be a vampire, and Dutch feared that, if he turned the man, that fury would carry over and Hosea would never want him again. That was something he could not bear.

So what to do?

Leaning over Hosea’s sleeping form, Dutch’s fingers caught the end of the bandage he had wound around his lover’s neck. One loop at a time, he undid his work, laying bare the damage he had done. The bite was no longer inflamed, but the skin boasted a red discoloring around the two tiny puncture wounds. Dutch’s thumb brushed the spot and it was warm to the touch against his icy finger. He had been too violent, too needy. Hosea didn’t deserve that sort of treatment.

When Aldric had bitten him, it had been sudden, without warning. He, Hosea and the boys had been tracking the vampire for days, finally stopping in a ravine they were sure housed their quarry. As dawn neared, they set up camp and Dutch took first watch.

He had stood at the edge of camp, watching the sunlight hit the very top of the ridges. He had thought there was no way a vampire would be out this early, for fear of being burned alive. He had been wrong.

Aldric did not try to seduce him or bend his will. Dutch was simply grabbed from behind by hands stronger than a vice, and before he could cry out, long fangs sank into his shoulder and an explosion of red blossomed before his eyes. He seemed to stand there forever, Aldric draining him of his life even as he filled the hunter’s veins with the crimson ooze that a vampire called blood. A blood swap, a trade that only one side had agreed to, the formula to turn someone into a vampire.

He must have made some sort of noise eventually, a yell, a groan, because all at once Hosea was up and on Aldric, sinking a stake into the vampire’s heart even as he bit down harder into Dutch. It took Arthur and Hosea both to wrench the monster off him, and when they did, Aldric was dead and Dutch lay immobile on the ground, blood streaming from his shoulder. Hosea had snatched holy water from John, poured it into the wound, and that’s when Dutch understood what had happened.

He had _screamed_ in pain _,_ screamed so loud Hosea stopped, and maybe that’s what doomed him. Before he could stop himself, he was on his feet, eyes wildly staring at the three hunters who had been his family. Sunlight descended into the valley and Dutch fled from it.

He didn’t remember much about the process of turning into a vampire. He’d found a cave and laid in it until night, and then ran again, afraid of what, he didn’t know. Turning? Being hunted? …Staying human?

It didn’t matter. When he emerged from that period, he was himself, his _true_ self. A vampire.

They had caught up with him in a forest a few days later, tried to reason with him, but he had lashed out, gotten Arthur good, and then it was their turn to flee.

But he needed Hosea, _wanted_ Hosea. He had never been complete without the other man and even now he knew that to be true. So…if he couldn’t risk turning his lover, he would keep him as he was; a warm, pliable human to partner his cold, infallible vampirism.

“I will make you love me again,” Dutch whispered, bending low so he could kiss the bite on Hosea’s neck. “If you cry, I will make you smile, if you hurt, I will take away your pain…all things that I couldn’t do when I was human, and now am capable of with only a thought….”

The beat of Hosea’s heart was so loud in Dutch’s ears, and the vampire inhaled deeply, imagining the warm blood running just under the man’s skin. He kissed the wound again, tongue darting out as if he could taste the irony liquid through flesh, but all he could taste was salt.

A frustrated groan left his lips, but he held himself back. It would do no good to drain Hosea dry, to kill him with impatience and hunger. There were plenty of animals in these mountains and the night was still young and dark enough for a hunt. The sweeter nectar in Hosea’s veins could wait; dessert after the meal.

Drawing back, Dutch rebound the bandages and pressed a palm to his human’s cheek.

“Rest now,” he murmured. “Soon I will drink from you again.”

Then he pulled the curtains shut and withdrew, leaving Hosea to dream alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vampire Dutch is a creep.


	4. Better

The hunters travelled west.

Arthur wasn’t sure just how many miles they had gone, but Sadie had said that Casturn, a village that lay near the place they sought, was ‘somewhere around sixty miles away’ and the hunter guessed they had travelled about half by now.

Over the days it had taken them to get this far, Arthur and John had come to know their travelling companions a bit better. Sadie was rough, tough, and kindhearted, though she didn’t like to show it. Said it ruined her image.

“‘The Bloody Menace’ is supposed to be ferocious,” she declared. “How am I to keep my reputation if I act all nice?”

Charles too was a nice enough person to travel with, though he spoke even less than Sadie. However, he always worked the hardest, rivaling Arthur’s willingness to set up camp, tend to the horses, or hunt for food. John still slept on the opposite side of the campsite from the werewolf, and Arthur found himself apologizing when they stopped on their third night of travel.

“A werewolf gave him those scars,” he said as he cut up a rabbit for stew. “He don’t mean to be rude. He’s just scared.”

Charles was skinning a second one and only grunted in response. They finished the work in silence. Sadie and John were gathering wood and scouting for any nearby threats, leaving the two men to make dinner. Arthur didn’t mind: his chest wound was acting up and he relished not having to move. The long rides were doing him no good either, and after dumping the meat into the pot, he sank against a tree with a little groan.

Next thing he knew, Charles was sitting cross-legged beside him. “Let me take a look.”

“’m fine,” the hunter said, but Charles shook his head.

“No you’re not.”

Arthur gave in to the matter-a-fact stubbornness. He _wasn’t_ fine, and hadn’t even taken a peek under the bandages since Hosea had last tended to him. Reluctantly, he shrugged off his coat, wincing, and unbuttoned his shirt. There was more blood staining it than last he looked, but it was drying, and he yelped when Charles pulled the cloth away from his skin, bringing several hairs with it.

“Damn, it really don’t look nice,” he said, grimacing at the clotted blood. The wound was long, skin torn from claws that had ripped through it. It didn’t bleed, but his entire chest felt hot, and the cool air felt wonderful.

“Why haven’t you cared for yourself?” Charles asked as he went to the fire. There was hot water for coffee boiling in the embers, and he poured some of it onto a cloth. “It’s needed attention for a while.”

“Just busy, I guess.” Arthur steeled himself as Charles began dabbing at the wound, trying to clean up some of the dried blood. “Gotta find a vampire.”

“You care more about finding Hosea than you do about yourself. You’ll won’t be able to save him if you get an infection and die.”

“Thanks for the lecture,” Arthur said, then hissed when Charles got to close to a raw spot. The werewolf lifted his hand away.

“Apologies.”

Arthur let out a sigh. “No…I am. I ain’t got no reason to hate you.”

Charles actually smiled, the first time he’d seen one on the werewolf’s face. “Don’t hunters inherently hate wolves?” He went back to his task and Arthur tried to bite his lip against the pain.

“Not ones that are helping clean up a chest wound.” The hunter watched as, little by little, his chest lost its bloodstains, leaving only the ugly red gash that was oozing a clear liquid, now that the crust of blood was gone. He bit down hard on his own sleeved arm when Charles poured almost boiling water over the cuts, tears springing to his eyes as his entire body burned. When the feeling faded, they wrapped new bandages around his middle and the hunter tipped his head back to the tree trunk, exhausted.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice husky with weariness. “I’m a dumbass who was choosing to ignore that.”

“You were ignoring the thoughts around it,” Charles replied, tossing the old linens into the fire. “You don’t want to think about why you have it.”

Arthur turned his head to look at Charles, amazed at how the wolf had been able to read his inner thoughts so clearly. What he was undeniably true; every time he thought about the wound, he had no choice to think of the man who had given it to him…a man he had never dreamed could do such a thing as hurt his own family. But then again, Dutch wasn’t a man anymore; he was a monster.

Charles was staring into the fire, and Arthur sat up, scooting forward so he was beside the wolf. “I wanna cry,” the hunter admitted quietly. “I wanna scream and cry, but there’s no use in doing it. I’m a hunter and sometimes things happen in this line of work. You know how I feel.”

It wasn’t a question, but Charles nodded anyway. “I know,” he said. “Sometimes I wish I could tear this out of me, the werewolf inside. No matter how long I’m human, something screams at me to change, to become the beast. I have to obey or I’ll go crazy, but when it’s time to be human again, the wolf fights back.”

“That’s why you were in pain, in the river,” Arthur said.

“Yes.” He met Arthur’s gaze, yellow eyes gleaming in the firelight. “There is nothing to be done but move forward. I cannot change who I am or what life gives. Neither can you. What we can do is deal with what fate has charged us with, and be better in the future.”

“Right,” Arthur said. “Be better….”

That’s what he was doing by rescuing Hosea. Being better than before. Better than when Hosea fought Aldric off Dutch. He’d woken too slow, risen too late, and now he and John were going through hell. His hand went to the fresh wrappings and Charles noticed.

“Rest,” the werewolf said. “I’ll wake you when dinner is ready.”

Arthur nodded, lying back on the blanket they were sitting on. _Falling asleep next to a werewolf…who would have known?_ He fell asleep to the crackling of the fire and the wind in the trees, finding peace in his dreams for the first time in a long while.

-

Casturn was a quaint little town, with gabled roofs painted a dusty orange, flower boxes on most of the windows, and all sort of businesses ranging from a general store to a blacksmith to a post office. It was pretty and peaceful, far different than Arthur remembered it being.

When he and John had travelled here months ago, the village had been terrorized by the warlock living in the mountains, but the family of hunters had seen that come to end, and Casturn had picked itself up, brushed itself off, and become a pleasant place to live.

Sadie led them to the Casturn Inn, the nicest place in town. “We’ll get rooms here, ask questions, and head up the mountain pass tomorrow,” she declared.

“I’ll take care of the horses,” Charles said, gathering up reins.

“I’ll help you,” Arthur offered, but the wolf shook his head.

“Go inside. Get warm.”

Arthur reluctantly followed John and Sadie into the main room of the inn. He wondered how Charles could handle it, being shunned to the stables in every town. Sure, Arthur had had his fair share of judgment, being a hunter, but he couldn’t imagine how Charles felt, being rejected by everyone, everywhere, all the time….

His gloomy thoughts were broken by John bouncing from foot to foot at his side as they waited for Sadie to get rooms. The teen hadn’t kept still since they entered town, tapping his saddle horn, looking around as they went through the streets, and now this. Arthur put a hand on his brother’s head teasingly.

“What’s eatin’ you?” he asked. “You’re hopping like a jitterbug!”

“Nothin’!” the teen growled, pushing the hand away. “It ain’t nothing, okay?”

“John? John Marston?”

John swiveled on his heel like a top being spun. Standing in the doorway, bucket in hand, was a girl about the teen’s age, and the look on John’s face told that he thought she was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.

“Abigail,” he replied, voice fighting to stay calm, and Arthur understood.

Abigail Roberts. Her father had been killed by the warlock soon after she’d been taken captive by the monster. They’d rescued her from the castle, and John had taken a shine to her almost at once.

“It is you!” the girl said, dropping the bucket and throwing her arms around the teen. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

John’s eyes widened, and it took him a moment to return the hug. Arthur grinned at him over Abigail’s shoulder and the teen glowered, mouthing, ‘shut up’.

Sadie joined them just then, and put her hands on her hips, asking “Who’s this?”

Abigail moved back at the new voice, but not very far. “Abigail Roberts, ma’am,” she said, looking stunned. “And you’re Sadie Adler.”

“That I am,” Sadie replied. “You know these boys?”

“They and their fathers saved me,” the girl answered, and cast a smile at John. Then she glanced around. “Where are Hosea and Dutch? I’d like to say hello.”

The joy of the reunion fell from the brothers’ faces. Abigail glanced from one to the other, her cheerful expression fading. “What’s the matter? They ain’t…they’re okay, right?”

Sadie coughed, catching her attention. “Long story short, Dutch is a vampire and he might have Hosea up in that castle. Whether he’s alive or dead, we can’t say yet.”

Abigail’s hand found John’s, squeezing it. “On no…. I’m so sorry. That castle is cursed, I tell you. It won’t let any of us live without losing someone.”

“They ain’t lost yet,” John said ferociously, and Abigail bit her lip.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-.”

“It’s okay,” the teen said, his tone gentler. “I know.”

Arthur pushed down all the worry that was building up in him at Sadie’s declaration of the facts. “It’s good to see you, Abigail,” he said. “You wouldn’t happen to have any information about the castle, would you?”

“You’re asking her?” Sadie questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

“She’s the only one of us who’s spent a good amount of time up in that place,” Arthur said. “I know it’s not pleasant to think about, Abby, but please…if you know anything important, we need it to save Hosea.”

Abigail took in a breath, and this time John squeezed her hand. “Hosea was always real kind to me,” she said softly. “I’ll tell you all that I know.”

“Much appreciated,” Sadie said, “But this ain’t the place to discuss it. Let’s head upstairs. Arthur, tell Charles to meet us in room six.”

“Who’s Charles?” Abigail asked, and John sighed.

“A guy we’re travelling with. He’s a _werewolf_.”

The girl’s mouth opened in surprise and Arthur frowned at John’s tone. “A nice one,” he promised. “Now get upstairs and we’ll join you.” He headed toward the door, muttering, “I want all this over with as quick as possible…before it’s too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may notice that "Chapter 4/10" has changed to "4/?". This is because I didn't expect such positive feedback for this fic (thank you!) and was inspired to revamp the ending a bit (haha gettit? reVAMP? im sorry).  
> Anyway, it won't be extended a whole lot, but it'll be a lot better than what I've got now.  
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

When Dutch entered the tower room, Hosea was lying on the bed, hands clasped over his stomach, looking at the mountains outside the window. He had taken the bandages from around his throat and thrown them to the floor. The longer he laid still, the more suffocating the wrappings had become, until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Too weak to rise, the act was the only thing he could do as he waited for the vampire’s inevitable return.

Dutch paused just inside the door, at the edge of the shadow caused by the wall. A large swath of sunlight placed an orange rectangle on the floor between his feet and the bed, and he looked through the painful sunbeams.

“You have removed the bandages.”

“Yes, I’m all ready for your next meal.” Hosea’s voice was fatigued and bitter, and he kept his gaze trained on outside world.

Dutch’s mouth pulled into a little frown. “I feasted too recklessly for your first time. I will control myself in the future.”

“Thank you.”

The sarcasm cut through the air like a knife. Raising one arm, Dutch used his cape to shield his skin from the sunlight as he crossed the room to stand over the bed, severing Hosea’s view of the window.

“You should thank me,” he snarled. “Consider my love proof enough!”

“This is not love,” Hosea replied, finally turning his head. He did not acknowledge Dutch’s closeness, however, looking to the wall. “You know it’s not.”

Dutch blinked in surprise, then let out a growl and reached for Hosea’s face, catching his jaw and digging sharp nails into the man’s skin, forcing his head up so their gazes met. “Then what is this?” he hissed. “I do not speak in falsehoods; only truth! I propose to you immortality! When you don’t want that, I offer you eternal happiness! You know what I am capable of; why oppose me?”

Hosea looked up at him with fear, certainly, but there was a bottomless sorrow in his eyes as well. He closed his eyes and his hand moved up to wrap around Dutch’s wrist, the action carrying no physical strength. Through the touch, however, there was a different sort of energy, a sensation of emotion that Dutch had thought himself immune to.

“Your powers carry only lies,” Hosea replied tiredly. “The happiness you promise is only a false truth. No matter how many times you send my mind to a place of joy, the waking world will remain hell. A hell _you_ have made for me.” Green eyes opened suddenly, looking directly into Dutch’s. “I hope you are prepared to bear _that_ truth.”

Dutch didn’t know how to respond. For a moment, he only stared into Hosea’s eyes, as if the man was the one capable of mind-bending powers, then he broke the gaze, yanking his hand away and pulling back to the side of the bed. Confusion overwhelmed him; was he, as a vampire, supposed to be caught off guard like that? Was it possible for him to be susceptible to his lover’s words, become weak to the emotion in his eyes?

No.

He couldn’t not allow it. He was a vampire and he was in control. That is how the world worked, how it should be. What he had felt was simply irritation and confusion as to why Hosea should be so brave to fight back. What he needed to do was show the human who was in charge here.

Switching his attention from himself back to Hosea, he could feel the man’s heartbeat pounding through the room, fast enough to send a shiver of hunger through the vampire. It wouldn’t do to have the blood pumping so fast…it would only make it that much harder to stop feeding. Turning to Hosea, he found the man already looking at him, and before eye contact could be broken, he let the words, “I’m sorry” slip like eels from his tongue.

“You’re not,” Hosea whispered, but he already seemed to doubt his own thoughts, and Dutch smiled, kneeling on the bed and bending over to cup the man’s face in his hand.

“No,” he said, “But that doesn’t matter now…does it?”

As Hosea slowly shook his head, allowing the vampire’s touch to move to his throat, something in the deepest part of Dutch’s heart ached with regret.

-

Morning in Casturn brought a flurry of activity. People woke, the shops opened, and the inn’s patrons headed downstairs for breakfast either at the establishment or at a nearby café. Arthur found himself sitting outside one of the coffee houses with Sadie and Charles, chugging caffeine and talking over what they had learned from Abigail the night before. The girl and John were absent from this morning meeting, taking a walk around town together.

John needed the break, but Arthur was too upset at the whole situation to think of anything else. Abigail’s information last night had proved useful; there were candles in the windows of the castle, she had seen them herself.

“How long have they been lit?” Arthur had demanded. Her answer had been that they appeared roughly two weeks ago, though the exact night was uncertain, as the castle was often hidden in clouds that hung about the mountain peaks. The length of time was accurate enough though. There was little doubt in the hunter’s mind that this is where Dutch was hiding.

“You said you’ve been here before,” Sadie had said. “Then you know the way to the castle.”

Arthur and John had both nodded. “There’s a path,” John remembered. “It’s awful and steep, but it got us there last time.”

Sadie insisted on a map of the path and castle, which Arthur drew out of a large piece of paper. John filled in details he missed and Abigail knew parts of the castle they didn’t, from being held there.

Now, sitting at the café, Sadie was studying the map as she poured whiskey into her coffee. “This is rough,” she said, “But we’ve dealt with worse.” Tracing the path with her finger, she frowned. “It looks narrow….”

“It goes along the cliffside,” Arthur said, setting down his cup and leaning forward. “I hope it hasn’t crumbled.”

“It is stable at least partway up,” Charles announced, and Arthur looked to him.

“How do you know?”

“I scouted it this morning,” the werewolf confirmed, then added upon seeing the hunter’s alarmed look, “Nowhere near far enough to be detected.”

Sadie tapped a selection of boxes on the map. “The dungeons. Abigail said that’s where she was held, and that the locks remain strong. Our main objective should be getting down this stairwell-.”

“No.”

Sadie and Charles glanced up to see Arthur shaking his head. “He won’t put Hosea in the dungeons. It’s too cold and damp down there, and Hosea ain’t well sometimes.”

“This is a vampire we’re talking about, kid,” Sadie replied. “Not a husband.”

But Artur was certain of his words. “When Dutch took him…he held Hosea like he was the last thing on earth that mattered. Don’t matter if he’s drinking Hosea’s blood or keeping him locked away, he wants him _alive_ , and a dungeon could kill him. Dutch can’t risk that.”

He felt sick saying it, trying _reason out_ the evil Dutch was doing, and took another long sip of his coffee. As he did, his gaze met Charles’s eyes, and the yellow irises were warm, carrying an unspoken comfort, and Sadie said, “Well, wherever he is, we’ll find him,” and Arthur felt a little better, knowing that these two were on his and John’s side.

There was one thing he needed to confirm, however.

“Sadie, you can’t…you can’t kill Dutch.”

The huntress raised her eyebrow at him. “Arthur….”

“I know, I know,” he said, “But…there’s got to be a way, right? We got Aldric off him fast. There’s a chance that he’s still got some humanity left.”

Sadie put down her coffee, staring him directly in the eye, her expression severe. “Arthur,” she said. “I never like killing a father, a husband, a friend, but they ain’t _that_ any longer. They’re monsters.”

“But-.”

“No.” Rising to her feet, she began rolling the map. “It’s my job to make sure no one else gets hurt.” Her tone softened and she looked sadly at Arthur. “I’ll do my best, but it’s not a promise I can keep.”

She stuck the map in her bag, and touched Charles on the shoulder. “I’ll find those teenagers. You two meet us at the start of the path in an hour with your supplies. If we start then, we’ll make it to the castle tomorrow morning.”

When she was gone, Arthur groaned into his hands. He knew she was right, but still…he couldn’t help but hold onto the wish that, when all this was over, things could go back to the way they were. With he, John, Hosea and Dutch being a family. No matter how much he told himself that Hosea should be his focus, it felt wrong to simply abandon Dutch to an existence he had not chosen nor had control over.

Charles’s hand rested on his shoulder, the warm weight of the touch bringing Arthur back to the café. The hunter let out a breath, composing himself for a moment before pushing back his chair.

“Alright,” he said, hoping the word came out stronger than he felt, “We got gear to collect. Let’s get moving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is interested, this is the music I listened to while writing the majority of this fic.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cAwHMf9dQjc Hold on to me, Hidden Citizens  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpHS0uIuA_8 Nightmare, Besomorph + Riell  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DjUUCA9ekq8 Scream, Besomorph + Riell  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mIrt5MkGpy0 Dark music mix, Zieglar


	6. The Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING! There is a non-graphic, non-explicit sex scene in this chapter. It's a very short part and technically happens in a 'dream' but I thought I'd let ya'll know anyway :)

If there was one consolation to the whole ordeal, it was that the castle had the biggest and most expansive library Hosea had ever seen. From textbooks, to history, to every notable novel ever written, the library boasted shelves upon shelves of books stacked up so high that little balconies and ladders were necessary to reach the highest tomes. Everything was covered in dust and spiderwebs, but upon pulling the books from their resting spots, Hosea discovered they were in considerably good condition, particularly the thick leather-bound novels.

He wasn’t looking for some pleasant reading material to curl up in front of a fire with, however agreeable that may sound. No, there was little time for enjoyment here. The moment he had woken from Dutch’s latest mind-numbing hypnotism, he had made it his task to seek out the library. If there was any chance of a cure, of spell or potion that would reverse the vampirism, it would be here. He keenly recalled the learned nature of the warlock that had previously inhabited the castle and sure enough, there were spellbooks, textbooks, charmbooks and more filling the shelves. If he’d been there under different circumstances, he could have spent weeks pouring over the different books and soaking up the ancient knowledge they held, but now he had a very specific task to attend to. He didn’t care how many books he would have to look through; if the cure was hidden amongst the thousands, no, millions of words in this room, he would find it.

But he would have to be careful. Dutch had said the night before that as long as he behaved, and didn’t try to run, he could have the entire castle at his disposal, including the kitchen, which was stocked with plenty of dried goods. Hosea had made himself a meal that morning after finding the library, the first one he’d had for days, and almost cried as he ate it, his starved body relishing in the nourishment.

Of course, he knew it was in Dutch’s good interest to keep him well fed; if he died of malnutrition, the vampire wouldn’t be able to feed from him. The idea of starving himself to death had crossed his mind, but no longer than a second. He didn’t want to die, firstly, and secondly, he was sure Dutch would find a way to keep him alive, and he preferred his life continued on his _own_ terms.

What else he’d like to take charge of was his rescue. He knew the boys were coming after them, if they could, but whether or not they thought to come to this place was another question entirely. If not, then it was up to him to save himself.

But he couldn’t leave Dutch.

He had thought to climb out a window, travel the mountain path to Casturn…or perhaps just head into the wild. He could survive; he’d spent years living in nature. If he quietly got his strength up day by day, he could do it.

But again…he wouldn’t leave Dutch.

No matter how far gone the man was, he was still Dutch in a vampire’s form. Hosea knew that, if there was a way, he had to find it. If he left now, without trying, the decision would haunt him for the rest of his life, chase him to his grave and wrestle with him in hell. Because he wouldn’t _know for sure if Dutch could be saved_. They had been partners too long…from friends, to lovers, to a couple, and a person didn’t just throw away a lifetime of love like that.

So he took a stack of books, mingling in a few novels so as not to raise Dutch’s suspicions, sat in a chair before the fireplace, and began to read. And read. And read. He read so much his head began to hurt and his eyes crossed. Book after book he poured over, boring ones, exciting ones, terrible ones filled with horrible things… reading until the words seemed to swim over the paper, but he didn’t stop until the book he held fell from his hand and his mind went dark with pure exhaustion.

When he came to, the sunlight was gone from the windows, signifying the length of his sleep, and Dutch was standing in front of the mantelpiece. Rubbing his eyes, the man sat forward, wincing when his back protested the movement after being seated for so long. Dutch shifted a bit, looking at him.

“I see you’ve found a way to keep yourself busy.”

“There are a lot of captivating books here,” Hosea agreed carefully. He looked down at the book he’d dropped, but luckily it was only a history book, nothing incriminating. He bent down to close it anyway, setting it with the rest on the side table. “Where have you been?”

“Out.” Dutch gave him a little smile. “The mountains are beautiful at night.”

“I know. I’ve seen the snow sparkle.”

The conversation was so casual, so normal, and Hosea’s guard had never been higher. Sitting back in the chair again, he watched Dutch’s face, but the pale marble of the vampire’s expression was unreadable. Still, he could read his lover’s silence better than any book.

“What is it?” he demanded. “What do you want to say to me?”

Dutch was quiet a moment longer, than replied, “I was thinking of the boys, Hosea.”

The way he said it caused a chill to run down the Hosea’s spine. “What of them?”

“They’ll come looking for you. Being the _hunters_ and _sons_ that they are.”

He sneered the words and Hosea got his feet, fists clenched and trembling.

“Dutch. If you hurt them, I swear to God I’ll-.”

The vampire spun to face him, eyes flashing. “You’ll what? Do you presume to threaten me? Here, now? As you are? As I am?”

Hosea didn’t flinch. “For them? Yes!”

Dutch raised a hand, as if to strike, but then paused. “Never mind…there is nothing you can do.”

He drew back to the mantel, and Hosea knew he was right. There was not much that he could do to stop Dutch right now. He noticed immediately that every fire in the castle seemed to burn without wood, not that he was keen on the idea of staking Dutch, not to mention the lack of physical power on Hosea’s part. The only weapon he had right now was time. All he needed was enough of it to search the books, but that would not help Arthur and John if Dutch decided to pursue them tonight. He wracked his mind for solutions to this grave dilemma, a danger that extended not only to him, but to his sons. _Their_ sons.

Dutch would not listen to begging nor requests…but if there was one thing Hosea had always been good at, it was making deals.

“Don’t go after our boys,” he said, and when Dutch faced him, angry at the bold statement, he quickly added, “If you let them be, I will not resist you again.”

That stopped the vampire’s fury in its tracks, and he stared at Hosea, first incredulous, then with a narrowing eye, suspicious. “Oh? Is this a lie on your part, you silver tongued fox?”

Hosea shook his head. “You may not remember how it feels,” he said, “But I have love for Arthur and John. _Real_ love, not this passion you exhibit to me here. At one point, you loved them too. If you can even pretend to know me, you know what I would do for them. What I would be willing to go through to keep them safe.”

Dutch did not reply for a long moment, and in that time, sweat beaded on Hosea’s brow, his heartbeat faltering in fear of what the response would be. A mocking laugh? A glare? A soft spoken word that made him forget he even had two sons? He dreaded the last, but Dutch must have so pleased with this win that he actually smiled, teeth flashing in the dying firelight.

“Of course, darling,” he crooned, practically swooping forward to take Hosea’s face in his hands. “I’m doing this for _us_ , and would not see you hurt.”

Hosea listened for the spell in Dutch’s words, but heard nothing, felt nothing but anger, and realized the vampire had agreed to his demand. Searching his lover’s face, he asked, “Promise?”

Dutch leaned in close, lips tickling Hosea’s ear. “Stay here, be mine, and they will not feel my wrath unless I feel theirs.” His hand grasped the man’s wrist. “Now come to bed…I’m absolutely starved….”

That was all Hosea needed. It would take time for Arthur to reach the castle, even if it was the first place they searched. If it was the last place, or never…then he a multitude of time, and the boys would remain out of danger. As Dutch guided him through the corridors, he estimated the time he had. At the very least he had three days to find a way to save his husband.

“Get out of your thoughts,” the vampire growled as they entered the bedroom and he pushed Hosea down on the bed. Moving so he straddled the man’s hips, he ran his fingers across Hosea’s face, tracing his lips, his nose, his cheekbones, before grasping his hair. “What would you like to dream about, darling?”

“What?” Hosea’s brow furrowed. Dutch laughed, leaning down to mouth at the wound on the man’s neck that wasn’t allowed to heal. Hosea’s breath hitched and he gripped the sheets, gritting his teeth as small stabs of pain blossomed out from the puncture marks.

“I’ll let you choose your fantasy,” Dutch said, moving back a fraction, so his eyes filled Hosea’s vision. “You’ve been so good today. Just imagine anything you like…I’ll do the rest.”

As the teeth sunk into his neck, the pain was masked in pleasure and Hosea let his eyes drift shut. He didn’t know what to think, where to guide his mind, but before he could fully drift away, he felt Dutch pull back. Suddenly, the man’s lips were at his mouth instead of his throat, and Hosea’s eyes opened instinctively. He almost shouted out loud, but something stopped him.

Where pointed fangs had been were only blunt human teeth, where red irises had gleamed, deep brown eyes watched him, and the hand holding his to the pillow was soft and warm, filled with life. Still, he couldn’t help but gasp and cringe at the action, and above him, Dutch pulled away a few inches.

“You alright there, old girl?” he asked, voice laced with concern.

Hosea looked around. They were in a safehouse by the looks of it; it was small and one-roomed. Sunlight streamed in through thin curtains and outside he could hear Arthur’s laughter and John’s grating shout. Returning his attention to the man in bed with him, he found Dutch completely naked and looking very confused. A glance downward found himself similarly undressed, and the _sensations_ of his body became very apparent all at once.

“Hosea? Are you okay?”

He lifted his gaze to Dutch’s face again, found it gentle, and he smiled. Freeing his hand, he brought both of them up to pull his lover’s face down into a kiss. When they broke apart again, he shook his head.

“I’m fine, love,” he said, the lingering feelings of alarm fading into the warm summer air and the heat of the moment. “Just…got lost in my thoughts, I suppose.”

Dutch nuzzled against the other man’s jaw, peppered it with scratchy kisses. “Let me know if I should stop.”

“Don’t stop,” Hosea said, drawing the other man close again, strangely desperate for the feel of his body. “Please. I want this.”

He groaned as Dutch started moving again, slow at first, hesitant after his partner’s reaction, but soon returning to the measured pace from before. Their hot breaths mingled as their lips met, this time eagerly by both, and Hosea let himself get lost in the feelings. The way Dutch kissed him, touched him, the rumbled moans against his cheek, he needed it all. He was so empty, so drained, and craved Dutch like a starving man thirsts for bread. He felt as if his body and mind were floating in a sea of dreams, and he allowed the water to carry him away to untethered happiness.

In the cold truth of the real world, he lay prone under Dutch’s hunched form, glazed eyes staring at nothing but illusions, and the blissful smile on his face was a horrid contradiction to the blood that trickled to the bedsheets as the vampire drank from him yet again.

-

Arthur didn’t remember the path to the castle being so dark. After breaching the foothills of the mountains, the track clung so tightly to the cliff walls that the looming rock obscured the sun as it rose, covering the travelers in grey shadow. Narrow as the way was, as steep as the drop may have been, and as dim as the light remained throughout morning and early evening, Arthur knew it wasn’t just the natural atmosphere that placed the gloom on his shoulders.

“The last time was walked this way, it was to hunt a warlock,” John said, huffing tired breaths at his side as they climbed. Behind him, Charles placed a hand on the teen’s backpack, relieving the narrow shoulders of weight. If John noticed, he didn’t say anything. “Now we’re…finding a vampire.”

_Now we’re hunting Dutch._

The young hunter spoke carefully when it came to talking about Dutch. They both did. Arthur patted his brother’s shoulder and tried to look positive.

“We’ll be alright. We’ve been through tough situations before. And besides.” He motioned forward to where Sadie was leading their party, then back to Charles taking up the rear. “We got friends.”

“Yeah,” John agreed, his tone halfhearted, but he cast a little smile back at the werewolf. “Suppose that’s true.”

Arthur felt a little happier seeing the affable interaction between the two, and it invigorated him. Unfortunately, at that very moment Sadie called out from ahead, “Let’s set up camp here!”

They had reached a wider spot on the trail, where an overhang of rock provided shelter and the cliffs were tall enough so any smoke from a fire would be shielded from the castle. It was too cold to go without the flames, though even the smallest lick of fire at the woods made them all nervous. Sadie set about making the campfire, Charles started preparing food, and Arthur tended the single packhorse they had brought along. Her name was Grace, and she was more surefooted than any of them.

“I’ll look on ahead and see if there’s anything odd along the way,” John volunteered, and Sadie nodded her consent.

“Do NOT go far!” she called quietly after him, “And come back at the first sign of danger!”

John nodded and darted farther along the path, vanishing around the next bend. Arthur watched him so, hoping the teen would be smart about whatever he encountered, and went back to brushing dirt from Grace’s coat.

It was about five minutes later when they heard the first scream. Arthur flung down his tin cup and jumped to his feet, grabbing his shotgun from its holster. 

“John!”

Without waiting for the others, he shot off down the path, following the sound of gunshots and, as he got closer, the ferocious growls of some animal. His first reaction to the sound was relief; it wasn’t a vampire. His second reaction was a redoubling of fear of losing his brother to an unknown enemy.

Rounding a particularly tall boulder, the hunter skidded to a halt, taking in the scene before him. The path split here, one way continuing narrowly up a mountainside, the other ending only a few yards away before dropping off into low clouds and a fall to death. It was at this edge that John stood, forced to the precipice by a pack of three gigantic wolves. There weren’t werewolves, but they sure weren’t normal, for their hunched backs reached Arthur’s chest and their eyes glowed red. One of them was limping, and John was pulling an empty trigger at the rest; all six of his bullets had only wounded a single wolf.

“Arthur!” John said, the words coming out angry, terrified. “Shoot them! Shoot them!”

The hunter did just that, sending both shells into the nearest wolf. It howled in agony and two of them whirled to face this new opponent. Arthur back up, reloading his weapon and aiming again, but he was afraid of hitting John.

“Get outta there, Marston!” he yelled as the wolves advanced.

“I can’t!” John screamed. His heel rested on the very lip of the cliff and he glanced back, but there was nowhere to run. “Arthur, I can’t!”

“I know, kid, I know,” Arthur muttered, lifting the shotgun once more as Sadie appeared at his side. He took in a slow breath and sent his shots into the beast that still had its focus on the teen as Sadie emptied her pair of pistols into the duo that was advancing on them. Arthur loaded his gun for the third time, sweat rolling down his forehead.

“We ain’t doing much damage,” he said, “We gotta-.”

His words were interrupted by a fourth howl, this one coming from their side, and Arthur turned, but there was no need to shoot.

Charles came charging from their left, passing the hunters and flinging himself at the two wolves. In werewolf form, he attacked, jaw snapping and claws raking at the hides of his opponents. The surprise assault didn’t last long, however, and the wolves retaliated, tearing at Charles with tooth and nail.

“Get the kid!” Sadie shouted, firing at the wolves Charles wrestled with, albeit hesitantly, so as not to accidently murder her friend. “Go on!”

Arthur did as told, running toward the third wolf, which was distracted enough so it had paused in its stalking of John. The hunter emptied his gun into the beast again, and it leapt at him, white teeth flashing in his sight before he was bowled to the hard earth, all air thrust from his lungs upon contact.

All he saw was fangs and fur, all he felt was weight of the animal on his chest, pain blossoming from where it rested on his bandaged injury, but suddenly it was gone, and the wolf was pulling back, barking in distress. Unable to rise, Arthur stared blearily as John yanked his hunting knife from the wolf’s back, shouting, “Get off of him!” before moving in for another hit.

“STOP!” Arthur wanted to yell, but it came out a breathless gasp as he struggled to get up and he watched as the wounded, panicked wolf leapt at John, knocking the teen backwards-

-and off the cliff.

Time had no meaning as Arthur surged forward, hands reaching desperately, needing to feel John’s shirt, arm, hair, _anything_. The air seemed thicker than molasses, the cliff edge was _miles_ away, and the stony ground resisted under his boots as he grasped wildly into vacant space.

Then rough cloth was between his fingers, John’s collar was clenched in his fist, and his hips hit the ground, the upper half of his body hanging over miles of empty air.

The wolf was gone, fallen far beyond sight, but John was safe…until Arthur felt himself slipping.

“Fuck, no, Jesus-.”

He wouldn’t let go, but couldn’t reach stable ground, and vertigo made his head spin as he watched John flailing at the end of his arm. The dirt beneath him disintegrated under his weight and he felt his stomach _drop_ , but then a strong hand was yanking him to safety by his belt. He focused on holding John as Charles dragged them backwards, and then Sadie was kneeling there, pulling John over the edge, and Arthur rolled to solid earth, gasping for breath.

“Ya can let go of me now, Arthur,” John whispered, and Arthur uncurled his fingers. He’d been gripping so tightly the action hurt, and he rubbed his cramped hand.

“Charles,” he said, “We’re alive.”

“You’re welcome,” the werewolf replied, and Arthur heard the pain in his steady voice. The hunter pushed himself to a sitting position and found Charles beside him, covered in more cuts and scrapes than Arthur could count. A glance around found the enemy wolves dead, hides shredded and peppered with bullet wounds. A shudder he couldn’t contain went through him as he realized he had nearly lost _everyone_ , including Dutch and Hosea. Including himself.

“Come on, all of you,” Sadie said, the voice of strength in their battered group. She had an arm around John, who was splattered in blood but otherwise unharmed. He looked shocked, stunned from their brush with death, and Arthur made himself rise, if only to be a good example for his brother. He offered a hand to Charles, who took it and stood, wincing. Sadie led the way back to camp with John and Arthur similarly offered his arm to Charles, who hesitated before accepting.

“Don’t be tough like me,” Arthur said jokingly as they walked slowly back down the path. “It’s my turn to take care of your wounds.”

“Appreciated,” Charles replied with a small smile that turned into a grimace when Arthur got him settled by the fire and started washing the injuries. When the werewolf was all cleaned up, John came over wrapped in a blanket, watching Arthur bandage the last of the cuts.

“Thanks,” the teen said quietly, and held his hand out. “You saved us.”

Charles looked at him for a short moment, then shook his hand, holding on tightly. “You’d do the same.”

John nodded, eyes fierce in his scarred face. “I would,” he promised, and he meant it. Charles released his hand and Arthur got to his feet, moving away so the wolf could rest. John followed.

“Proud of you, kid,” the hunter said, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep breath in.

“Thank you too, Arthur,” John replied, not even arguing against the term. “You caught me.”

“What are brothers for?” Arthur said with a grin, but it was weary. John shuffled a little closer, resting his head on Arthur’s arm, and Arthur put it around the teen. They didn’t say anything else, too embarrassed for further affection, but hopeless enough to seek each other’s company. As the clouds finally parted to reveal starry sky, broken by the black towers of the castle they sought, the two young men stood together and watched the moon rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know why, but that last scene with the fight has been my favorite one to write so far.


	7. The Discovery

Hosea wished the kitchen wasn’t in the lower level of the castle, practically underground. He would have loved to prepare his meals in the light of day, even if that light was filtered gray and dim through the clouds. The only normality he’d found in the past week was reading in the library and preparing meals for himself. Dutch left him alone to those tasks, gone doing…what, Hosea wasn’t sure, but it gave him time to continue searching for a remedy.

And he’d found one.

Or at least…he thought it may be one. An old spell book, written in a language he could barely decipher, had listed a recipe for a cure, though he hadn’t been able to find the word ‘vampire’ anywhere on the page. There had been several mentions of ‘turning’ and ‘reverse’ however, so he’d ripped the page out and now had it folded into an inner pocket of his vest. How he would interpret the rest and actually collect the ingredients was another matter entirely, one that occupied his mind as he chopped up garlic for soup. He’d taken to putting the bulb in all his meals. While it didn’t dissuade Dutch from drinking his blood, Hosea had found the vampire avoided the general kitchen area if the scent of it was in the air.

It was a pot of soup he made that morning, with distracted thoughts and frayed emotions, so when the floorboards creaked outside the door, he actually jumped. It crossed his mind that Dutch was back, but…the vampire made no noise as he walked, and the chill that preceded his arrival was absent.

Hosea’s heart soared with realization: someone else was in the castle! Then it fell again, into a stomach that started twisting with knots. But who? A friend, or a new foe to contend with?

The man gripped the kitchen knife he had been using tighter; the table already separated him from the door, and when no further sound came for a long few seconds, he called out quietly,

“Hello?”

There was a beat of quiet, and then the door was pushed open wider and a voice replied, “Hosea?”

-

Arthur had never particularly cared for the haunts of the monsters he hunted, but he’d never actually hated them. They were simply another spot to enter and leave after finishing the job. Every cave, house, swamp…there was a detachment from them.

Not so for this castle.

Arthur looked up at the stone walls that loomed overhead and wished he could tear it apart bit by bit until he found Hosea. It made him sick to think of the man trapped in this place, alone.

 _‘Not quite alone,’_ he thought as he backed up to rejoin the others. _‘He’d be better off if he were in there all by himself.’_

“Here’s the plan of action,” Sadie said from their hiding place; the remains of a landslide at the base of the path that wound up to the castle’s door. “Arthur, Charles and I will go in, find Mr. Matthews, and get out. John, you’ll stay here.”

“What?” the teen said, aghast. “But I want to-!”

“Look, if the vampire returns, we need to know,” Sadie interjected. “If you see him, you come in and find us, got it?”

John nodded, quiet now that he realized he had an important mission. Sadie pointed out the areas they would all search, then rolled up the map. “Any questions?”

“What if he’s already in there?” Charles asked.

“Avoid him,” Sadie replied. “Or kill him.”

John looked at Arthur, but he didn’t voice false hopes. They were too far into this to want anything more than Hosea back alive. The hunter patted the teen’s shoulder, then rose to follow Sadie ad Charles to the castle.

They got in via side door, one that closed behind them without Arthur even touching it. It refused to budge when Sadie pulled on it, and she grimaced before reaching into her pocket and distributing three skeleton keys between them.

“These’ll open anything,” she said, and demonstrated on the door they had just entered through. “Right, so we look and meet back here in quarter of an hour, old man or not. Got it?” She spoke the last two words directly at Arthur, who nodded solemnly, though he wasn’t sure he’d be able to listen to the request if the time came and none of them had found Hosea.

“Got it?” she repeated, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Got it,” he echoed, and she eyed him sternly, then headed off in her direction. Charles and Arthur shared a silent nod of encouragement before going their separate ways.

The hunter’s route took him through dusty sitting rooms, untouched for a long time, corridors where spiderwebs were strung across the way, catching in his hair, and staircases that hadn’t had their dusty floors disturbed for a long time. There was no sign of life, besides the spiders, and Arthur began to despair that there was anyone here at all.

If not, what then? They had exhausted days to get here, days in which Hosea could be alive or dead, and it would take ages more to find him in an entirely different location. Would Sadie and Charles be willing to put in the time to search further? His heart wanted to say yes, but his mind was far more logical; they had their own lives, own jobs, and Arthur knew that he didn’t have enough money to keep them around much longer.

But, just as a quarter of an hour was up and Arthur was beginning to think that this all had been a complete waste of time, he saw light. It was faint, just a glimmer under a door, but it was light nonetheless, and the first he’d seen. He pressed through and found a small set of wooden stairs leading to a second door that was barely cracked open. Creeping down, shotgun in hand, he froze when a board creaked under his boot.

He waited seconds that felt like hours, but nothing burst out into the stairwell, and he decided to continue on. His foot had hardly begun to lift when a spoken word suddenly reached his ears from the new room.

“Hello?”

Arthur came to a standstill again, this time in breathless shock. Overcoming the punch of emotion the familiar tone had given him, he pushed open the door and looked into the kitchen beyond, his voice full of hope as he asked,

“Hosea?”

The older man dropped the knife he had been holding, sending it clattering to the table. “Arthur? Arthur!”

The hunter rushed forward as Hosea rounded the table, crushing his father in a hug. “It’s me,” he said, trying not to cry. “We found you.”

“Thank God,” Hosea said, arms wrapped securely around Arthur’s middle as though afraid he would vanish. “I don’t want this to be another dream….”

Arthur leaned back at the broken tone, and took in the sight that was his father. He felt anger rise in him at the thinness of Hosea’s form, the sallow gauntness of his face, the weariness in his stature. Never had he seen the man’s eyes so lackluster, missing their lively twinkle. Hosea reached up, cradling Arthur’s face in his hands, feeling the warmth of his skin and peering into the hunter’s eyes.

“You must be real,” he said anxiously. “You don’t seem like a fantasy.” 

Arthur gripped Hosea’s arms, holding on tight to what had been returned to him as he nodded. “I’m real,” he said. “And we gotta go. John’s waiting outside, so we can get away from-.”

To his dismay, Hosea was shaking his head. “No. What about Dutch, Arthur? We-.”

“Forget him!” Arthur couldn’t stand the words he said, but he knew there was no other way. “Please, Hosea, he’s gone.”

“Maybe not.” The light was back in Hosea’s eyes, dim and only for a second, but surely there. “I-.” He cut himself off, body stiffening as he looked toward the second door in the room. “He’s returning.”

Arthur felt it too then, a cold that crept over his skin and sank to his very bones. All at once, Hosea was reaching into his vest, then shoving something small and square into Arthur’s hand as he simultaneously pushed him back toward the door he’d come in from.

“Hosea, you have to come with me,” Arthur begged. “He’ll know I was here anyway. I can’t leave you!”

“Hush, boy,” Hosea said fiercely. “You have what you need. I’ll keep him here. Trust me, son!”

He closed the door in Arthur’s face, leaving only the slightest gap to avoid making too much sound. Through this crack, Arthur watched as the man returned to the table, picking up the knife again. Lying his hand on the wooden surface, Hosea’s face twisted into a pained expression as he raised the blade, then brought it down on the soft skin between his thumb and index finger. Blood immediately started flowing from the gash, pooling on the table in a crimson puddle. Hosea let it run, only gathering up the wounded hand in his other when the door opened and Dutch entered.

Arthur had not seen the vampire since the night he’d taken Hosea, and the imagine of him was no better now. He was less terrifying, yes, but he looked so much like Dutch that Arthur’s anger stemmed now from the idea that he could hurt Hosea so, and not have a care in the world.

“Ah,” the vampire said, eyes locked on Hosea’s hand. “I had thought I smelled…it must have been you.” He drifted forward, reaching out. “Let me see.”

“Never mind, it’s just a cut,” Hosea replied, and Dutch’s tone changed, becoming harsh.

“Let me see. Remember our deal, darling.”

Arthur knew he should go, meet Sadie and Charles and get out, but he remained, immobilized and watching the scene unfold before him. His fingers, wrapped around the shotgun, trembled as Hosea offered his hand up to Dutch, droplets of blood falling to the floor as he did.

Dutch grasped his victim’s wrist, lifting the bloody hand to his mouth, eyes staying locked on Hosea’s face as he licked up from the wrist to the tips of his fingers, catching the blood as it welled to the surface and overflowed the jagged edges of the wound. It was Hosea who looked away first, and Dutch drew closer, catching his chin and raising it.

“You are unhappy.”

“I’m fine.”

The vampire moved his grasp around to Hosea’s neck, pulling him forward to place a crimson kiss to the pale cheek. When he moved back, the man’s own blood stood out red and shining on his skin where Dutch’s lips had touched.

“I will make you happy,” the vampire purred, and Arthur withdrew from the door.

He was still shaking when he arrived at the door several minutes too late. Sadie looked simultaneously angry and relieved as she grabbed his arm and guided him out the exit in front of Charles.

“Where were you?” she snapped when they were once again hidden behind the rocks with John. “Neither Charles or I saw hide nor hair of Mr. Matthews and we were going to count you gone too!”

Arthur looked down at his hands instead of replying. Uncurling his fingers, he saw the paper Hosea had given him, damp with sweat from being gripped so tightly.

“Arthur?” John asked. “What’s the matter with you?”

The hunter lifted his gaze, slowly coming to the realization that all three of them were watching him. John’s eyes were narrowed, perhaps surmising that his brother had discovered something, Sadie was still glaring, but less so, and Charles simply looked inquisitive, with a hint of concern.

“I- I found him,” he said at last. “He refused to come with me.” Holding up the paper, he added, “Gave me this.”

“He’s alive,” John said, his rusty tone breaking with relief, and Sadie let out a long breath, pushing her hair back from her face.

“Well, that’s the best news I’ve heard in a while,” she noted. “What’s the paper?”

Arthur unfolded it with trembling fingers that he tried to steady. Glancing over the words, he shook his head. “Nothin’ I can read.”

“Let me see!” John said, snatching it and pouring over the symbols. “This is useless! Why didn’t you get him, Arthur? Why’d you leave him?”

“I-,” Arthur began, but Sadie had the paper now and interrupted.

“It’s a potion.”

That caught the brothers’ attention and they turned eagerly at the news that she understood what it was. “For what?” John asked.

Sadie furrowed her brow, eyes skimming the language, then her eyes widened, and she let out a low whistle. “This changes everything!”

“What?” Arthur demanded. “You gonna keep it to yourself?”

Sadie lowered the paper, refolding it and handing it back to Arthur. “Kids, it appears that Mr. Matthews has found a way to devamp a vampire.”

That knocked all the retorts and responses from the brothers’ lungs and they simply stared at the recipe in Arthur’s hands, gaping at it like Sadie had just revealed to them the most coveted treasure in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh things are happenin' !


	8. Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long one, fellas.

The next evening found Arthur standing over the table in his room at the inn, checking and double-checking the spread of ingredients that lay before him. All in all, they hadn’t been terribly hard to get, and Arthur marveled at the simplicity of some of them.

Holy water, a mixture of herbs (that luckily, were native to the mountainous area), charred spell book pages (which any good hunter carried), a dash of silver from a necklace melted by a priest (they had asked the local pastor’s help for that and the water), and blood from the vampire who had turned the potion’s intended recipient.

Arthur had nearly broken down to tears upon hearing that last one, knowing that they had burned Aldric’s body weeks ago. But John had leapt to his feet, saying, “Don’t be dumb, Arthur! Hosea always saved blood, for studying! It’s in your saddle-bag!”

And so a little vial of brownish vampire blood sat beside all the other things. Sometime tonight Sadie would mix it all together, since she was the only one who could read the spell. And then they would start for the castle again. With luck and stamina on their side, they may even reach it before the sun set tomorrow.

After their flurry of activity, there was nothing to do but rest until morning, so he went to see Charles in the stables until John tired of guarding the ingredients and they’d switched places in the room.

“You want to see Abigail, am I right?” Arthur had asked when John was pulling on his boots.

“Well, you got to see Charles!” John retorted, and escaped before his older brother could ask him what that remark meant.

Sure that all of the ingredients were present, he paced back and forth in the small room, too impatient to sit still. He knew timing was critical for the potion to be made accurately, but he still wished they could leave right now.

“Relax,” came Charles’s voice from the entrance to the room, and Arthur turned to see him leaning against the doorframe. “Sadie will be here soon.”

“I know,” Arthur replied, though he didn’t. He wasn’t sure of anything at the moment. He sat down on the bed to stop himself from pacing and ended up wringing his hands together instead. Charles sat next to him, quiet, strong, and sturdy.

 _‘Well, it’s not his fathers that are in danger,’_ Arthur thought bitterly, then felt guilty about taking his anger out on the wolf, even silently.

But Charles didn’t need to hear his thoughts to know the hunter was far from alright, and his hand covered Arthur’s clasped fingers, stilling their nervous movement. He pressured them slightly, his grasp heavy and warm.

“We’ll do our best, Arthur. That’s all we can do.”

The hunter nodded, glad for Charles’s presence. Of course they would do everything they could to save Dutch and Hosea. He only hoped it was enough.

-

Hosea was in the library when Dutch found him. He was reading a book, but it fell from his hands when Dutch burst into the room.

The vampire entered so violently that the double doors swung back on their hinged, slamming into the walls, and the drapes over the windows billowed like Dutch’s cloak as he crossed the library to where Hosea sat. He moved so quickly, at the door one second, beside Hosea the next, that the man barely had time to stand before he was grabbed by the neck and pushed roughly up against the window behind his chair.

Hosea automatically gasped as the air was pushed from his lungs and a deadly chill ran over every inch of his body. His fingers gripped Dutch’s wrist, useless, and his back rutted painfully against the windowsill.

“Such a smart man,” Dutch spat, his eyes burning into Hosea’s. “Such a _clever_ man! Do you play me for a fool? Did you think I wouldn’t _notice_ if someone broke into this castle?”

Hosea shook his head, the only answer he could give while his lung were too empty to form words. Yet he knew it was a fruitless lie. If Dutch knew that Arthur had been here, then he knew, and there was nothing to be done about.

“Liar,” the vampire hissed, the word catching in his throat as a growl. The pressure on Hosea’s windpipe increased, and the human saw blackness flicker in the corners of his vision. Then Dutch’s grip was gone and he fell to hands and knees, choking on the sudden rush of air. Forcing his head up, Hosea looked at the man, the vampire, who towered over him in rage.

“You’ve forgotten who I am,” he rasped, throat burning. “Who we are. Whatever I’ve done, I did it for your own good, Dutch.”

He could feel the fury emanating from Dutch. There was nothing he could say or do that would redeem him in the eyes of the vampire now; the façade of compliance was over. No longer on equal footing, he was once again as helpless as a lamb led to slaughter.

Dutch knelt before him, cape settling out like a pool of oil around their feet, and gripped Hosea’s chin. His thumb pushed between the man’s lips, forced his teeth apart, holding onto his jaw like a handle and pulling him forward so Hosea nearly fell on his face trying to keep his jaw from breaking.

“I want to know what you’ve done,” the vampire said. His tone was low, threatening, and it reverberated through every bone in Hosea’s body. “I want to know what you told them.” His thumb curved, pressing down on Hosea’s tongue, and the man gagged at the suffocating sensation that was forced upon him. He lifted tear-filled eyes to beg and was instantly trapped in Dutch’s mind-numbing gaze.

“And don’t lie to me, _darling_ ,” Dutch snapped, freeing his jaw but switching the grasp to Hosea’s hair, keeping his gaze trained upward. “I’ll know if you’re dishonest.”

Hosea wasn’t sure he could have lied if he wanted to; even with the fury in Dutch’s tone, he could feel himself giving way to the vampire’s power.

“A…potion,” he groaned, despairing at the words that came out of his mouth. “To turn you human again….”

Dutch’s eyes narrowed, but he seemed satisfied with the answer. “How could you, Hosea?” he asked, sounding sad now, like all his anger had burned itself up. “How could you do this to us? You’ve hurt me so.”

A sob welled up in Hosea’s throat. Dutch released him completely and he curled in on himself, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth to stifle the unrelenting sobs that shook his thin form. He’d never meant to hurt Dutch…only save him. What had he done? Guilt suffocated every other emotion, stifling his fear and anger, leaving only shame where resentment had once been. Almost frantic, he reached out, needing to show his regret to Dutch properly. Perhaps…if he apologized, his lover would forgive him.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, fingers curling into Dutch’s shirt with feeble strength. “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. Forgive me….”

“Of course, my dear,” Dutch cooed, gathering Hosea in his arms and drawing the weeping man to his chest. “After all, you’ll behave much better from now on, I’m sure of it.” He looked down, titling Hosea’s face up with a finger under his chin. The man’s enthralled mind missed the smirk on the vampire’s lips, ignored the wickedness in his tone when he said, “You’ll behave for me…won’t you? It’s the only way we can truly be happy. Just say yes, my love. You’re mine, Hosea, forever, and no one will take this away from us if you’ll only _obey_.”

Hosea trembled for a moment, as if something inside of him was desperately trying to escape, but then he let out a shaky breath and turned his head to the side, exposing his neck.

“Yes,” he said, voice oddly monotone, and Dutch’s lips curled upward in a smile.

“Beautiful,” he hissed, and sank his teeth into his victim.

Hosea moaned at the feeling, hand twisting desperately into Dutch’s shirt, and the vampire pulled him even closer, lifting him up to his knees so they were chest to chest. The human’s rapidly expanding and deflating lungs swelled against the vampire’s marble form, and Dutch groaned hungrily as the blood began to pump faster through Hosea’s veins. A torrent of gasps and moans fell from Hosea’s lips as he _craved_ the pleasure of being Dutch’s feast even as his body began to shut down.

Dutch didn’t stop, however. He needed this, needed to take Hosea’s mind completely and also energize himself for the fight he knew was to come. He didn’t stop when Hosea’s grip on him slackened, or when the man in his arms went limp from exhaustion. When he finally withdrew his fangs from flesh, it was only because he could feel the heart he was draining falter, and killing Hosea was not something he would do, no matter how furious the man caused him to become.

 _‘That is not out of compassion,’_ he told himself as he rose to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth as he stared down at his victim’s motionless form. _‘I cannot feel such emotions. Not anymore.’_

And yet, he did not abandon the room without lifting Hosea to a sofa, without pulling a blanket up to the unconscious man’s shoulders. Only when this was done did he retreat, thinking, _‘It will do me no good if he dies….’_ Even as somewhere deep in his soul he was screaming in regret over what he had done.

-

Arthur had almost expected Dutch to appear the moment they pushed through the main double doors into the castle, but there was no sign of the vampire as the group of four stood in the entry hall, peering into shadows and eyeing the halls that led into other parts of the fortress.

“What if he’s not here?” John whispered. “Do we just wait around.”

“No way,” Sadie replied. “We find Mr. Matthews and make sure he’s okay. That’s number one on the list. After he’s safe, we deal with the vampire.”

Arthur didn’t like the way she said ‘deal with’, but shrugged off the feeling of doom settling on his shoulders and motioned to the staircase. “Should John and I take the second level?”

“We stick together this time,” Sadie said. “If Hosea is still able to wander around this place, where would we find him?”

Arthur didn’t even hesitate before replying, “The library.”

“Third floor, somewhere in the east wing,” Charles informed them from where he had their crude map in his hands. “Directly up these steps.”

“Then let’s go, boys.” Sadie led the way, pistol in one hand and a flask of holy water in the other. Arthur double-checked that his shotgun was ready to go and followed with John right behind, with Charles taking up the rear, his gun trained on the shadows behind them as they ascended.

Everything was quiet as they went, and the silence put Arthur’s teeth on edge more than any noise could have. The air was thick and musty in the castle, and there was a scent around them that he couldn’t quite place. It was an old smell, dry and stale, as if the air hadn’t touched the outside world in a long time.

“It smells like death,” Charles said quietly from behind, and Arthur glanced at him, a shiver running down his spine as he realized the wolf had placed the scent exactly. “The place is corrupt with it.”

“Hush,” Sadie warned, coming to a halt on the third-floor landing. A hall stretched before them, and from one of the doors flickering orange light shone in a narrow beam across the floor and opposite wall. The hunter signaled with her pistol, and they all crept up the last steps, the fraying carpet just thick enough to muffle their footsteps. Sadie drew herself up alongside the door, peering in so the strip of light illuminated her face. Arthur watched her eye narrow and then she turned to him, muttering,

“Library. I don’t think the vamp’s in there.”

Arthur agreed. There was no chill in the air and an absence of shivers on his spine. He gestured, as if to move past her, and she hesitated before giving a curt nod and allowing him to enter the room first. Pushing the door open slowly, the barrel of his shotgun entered before him, but it pointed only at shelves of books, and then the man.

“Hosea.” Arthur breathed the name in relief, but Hosea didn’t acknowledge him as he stepped further into the large room. The man was sitting at the end of the sofa, chin in hand as he stared idly out the window to where raindrops beat hard against the pane, making the glass quiver, and didn’t even cast a glance toward the young hunter.

“Hosea?” he said again, moving forward, and from behind Sadie warned,

“Arthur, careful,”

But Arthur didn’t listen, going to Hosea’s side and shaking his shoulder. “Hey! Look at me!”

The older man turned his head slowly, blinking at Arthur as if just realizing he was there. He seemed confused for a second, and then a wan smile spread across his face and he said in a voice that was soft and far-away, “Oh…. Arthur. It’s you.” Then his gaze returned to the window and he said, “It’s so dreary out today…. Isn’t it?”

Arthur didn’t know how to respond. He was shaken to the core not only by Hosea’s odd manner, but by his appearance as well. He had thought his father looked worn and pale before; now Hosea’s skin was as white as a ghost and he looked as if a strong gust of wind would reduce him to ashes. He looked like death.

“Pa!”

Arthur turned as John shoved past Sadie to get farther into the room, running past his brother and fairly crashing into Hosea’s chest, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in the man’s shirt. “You’re okay!”

Hosea’s pale hand feathered over John’s dark hair, not even looking at the teen. “We’ll be alright,” he said listlessly. “There’s no need to be afraid, not anymore.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Arthur asked, pulling a bewildered John away. Leaving Charles to watch the door, Sadie strode across the floor to take Hosea’s chin in her hand, tilting his face toward the candlelight. He looked at her, puzzled, but didn’t fight her grasp.

“Dammit,” Sadie grimaced. “He’s been bewitched, or hypnotized, or whatever you’d like to call it. Any resistance has been totally overridden.” She drew back and swore again. “This probably means Dutch knew we were coming.”

Arthur’s heart leapt into his throat. “Wait. Do you think-?”

Before he could finish his question, Charles barked, “Sadie!” and they turned to see the wolf backing away from the door, shotgun aimed at the figure that had appeared in the entryway.

“Dutch,” Arthur said, and the vampire inclined his head.

“My son,” he said, but Sadie shouted,

“Don’t let him speak! On him, boys, we’ve got work to do!”

At her words, Dutch leapt forward, and Charles made to intercept him, but the vampire caught the wolf’s arm, throwing him to the floor. The vampire had his eyes locked on Arthur, who shoved John back by Hosea.

“Watch him!” he ordered the teen, and aimed his gun at the oncoming vampire.

“Arthur, don’t kill him!” John screamed, and the hunter hesitated long enough for Dutch to bowl him over, sending him to his back on the floor. The gun in his hand went off, hitting nothing but ceiling, and Dutch’s nails dug painfully into his shoulders, the vampire’s body heavy on his chest.

“So this is how you treat your father,” Dutch growled, eyes blazing as Arthur struggled beneath him. “By trying to kill him?”

“Not- kill-!” Arthur gasped, and the vampire sneered.

“Worse! To be human is to be weak!”

“Try this for weakness!” came Sadie’s shout from the side, and Dutch howled in sudden agony as she emptied her flask of holy water on his shoulder. At the same moment, Charles, now shifted into his wolfish form, leapt onto the vampire’s back, dragging him off Arthur. Sadie pulled the hunter to his feet as the vampire and the wolf grappled, and Arthur raised his shotgun again, but couldn’t find a clear shot that wouldn’t hurt Charles.

Beside him, Sadie pulled a glass syringe filled with a dark purple liquid from her pocket. “You two are going to have to hold him down if this is ever going to work,” she said, and Arthur nodded grimly, shoving his gun into its holster and running forward.

He grabbed onto Dutch’s cape, yanking him backwards as hard as he could, but the vampire was strong, so very strong, and he barely flinched. Instead, Dutch turned, reaching for Arthur’s neck, but Charles’s fangs clamped down on his arm hard enough so when he was shaken free, blood stained the dark fabric of the vampire’s shirt. Charles skittered backwards over the wooden floor, nails digging in to steady himself, and Arthur fell back, out of reach.

The two circled Dutch, who had paused in his attack, grasping his arm. Arthur wasn’t fooled, however; it would take more than a bite to defeat their foe. They needed to get him _down_ , and immobilized long enough for Sadie to properly get that potion into him.

Locking eyes with Charles, Arthur hoped the wolf would follow his lead. Even in his current form, the yellow eyes were familiar, and they stared into Arthur’s for a long second before the hunter broke contact.

“Dutch!” He yelled, drawing his shotgun, and when the vampire turned, he sent both shells at his legs. One missed, but one it’s mark, sinking into Dutch’s right calf, and the vampire staggered at the sudden blow.

“Drag him down!” Arthur yelled, and Charles acted, leaping forward to bite down on the fabric of Dutch’s cape, pulling him to the floor. Arthur ran, diving to the vampire’s chest and pinning his arms. Charles twisted the cloth he held onto, similarly trapping Dutch’s neck against the ground.

“Sadie!” Arthur shouted, and she moved toward them, potion in hand.

She had hardly reached them however, when Dutch pulled his right arm free, delivering a hit to Arthur’s middle that made him curl in on himself in agony. Charles growled deep in his throat and pulled harder on the cloth, but Dutch’s hand flew up, unclasping the cape and freeing himself. With one strike he had tossed Arthur halfway across the room and the hunter hit a bookshelf, dropping to the floor with a thud. Charles snapped at the vampire, but Dutch grabbed the wolf by his fur and hurled him at a wall, where he hit it with a whimper and fell, unconscious. 

Spinning around, Dutch lunged at Sadie, knocking away the pistol aimed at his head, and threw her to the ground. His fingers curled around her wrist, and he looked at the syringe gripped tightly in her hand.

“So…this is my humanity?” he asked, sneering. “Trapped in a single bottle?” His grip tightened and Sadie grunted in pain, her hand unclenching against her will so the potion landed on the floor. It didn’t break, simply rolled away, and Dutch smirked.

“Useless,” he said, and his other hand found her neck, wrapping around it so she gasped for breath. “And all of you…weak!”

Sadie’s glare didn’t leave her face as he choked her, and her free hand plunged into her coat pocket. Before the vampire could react, she had a stake in his side, and he shrieked at the sudden pain, but didn’t release her.

“Missed,” he snarled, yanking the stake from his side and flinging to the ground.

“Dutch!”

The vampire’s head swiveled. Beside him, John stood, the potion in one hand and Sadie’s pistol in the other. The teen was trembling, but his expression was one of determination. Dutch eyed the gun, then turned his gaze to John’s face.

“Would you kill me, boy?” he asked, and John’s face turned a shade whiter. He held out the syringe.

“Take this, or I _will_ shoot you!”

Dutch let out a cold laugh. “Making demands of me? You should know better, John.” He let go of Sadie, who drew in pained breaths as the vampire stood, advancing on the boy. “All these years I’ve taken care of you, kept you safe, taught you everything you know…and now you would kill me?”

“You’re not Dutch,” John said in a small voice. The back of his knees hit the sofa and he sat down with a thump. Dutch’s hand shot out and he tore the pistol from John’s grasp.

“I am more myself than ever before!” Dutch hissed, leaning forward so his nose was inches from the teen’s. “That is something no one understands!” His fingers traced John’s jawline, touched his neck. “But…I could allow you to, if you join me.”

“John!” Arthur wheezed from across the room, where he was attempting to stand. “John, don’t listen to him!”

John looked to his brother, but Dutch forced his head back again, staring fiercely into his eyes. “Eternal life! Eternal happiness! No more pain, John…no more suffering. I could teach you so much more than I already have.”

A sob welled up in John’s throat, his finger’s trying to find purchase on the sofa cushions to steady himself. A hand settled over his shaking one, the one that held the potion, and Dutch glanced up to find Hosea there, watching him.

“You’re hurting our boys, Dutch,” Hosea said, his tone as if he had just woken from a long nap.

“They’re in our way,” Dutch replied, and Hosea shook his head.

“They never are. Look around at what you’ve done.”

Despite himself, Dutch did, gaze falling on Sadie, who was on her side, trying to get enough air to rise, on Charles, who was just coming around, on Arthur, who had gotten to his hands and knees, and was struggling to stand, and on John, who had tears cascading down his face, still in Dutch’s grasp. The vampire turned again to Hosea, who was looking at him with weary eyes.

“I can’t be human again,” Dutch said, voice cracking, and Hosea didn’t say a word, just leaned forward, catching Dutch’s face in his hands and pressing a kiss to his lips. Dutch started, shocked enough so he didn’t see Hosea’s other hand come around from where he had kept it hidden behind his back to conceal the stake, the same one the vampire had pulled from his side moments ago.

In between one breath and the other, in which Dutch began to pull away, Hosea’s arm surged forward and the wooden stake plunged into the vampire’s chest with a sickening crunch. Dutch’s entire body jerked, and he tore himself from Hosea’s grasp, staggering back from the sofa as his hand fluttered up to where the end of the stake protruded from him. The vampire’s eyes lifted from the weapon to Hosea, who was now being hugged fiercely by John but hadn’t let his gaze stray from Dutch for a single moment.

“N-no,” the vampire panted as a dribble of blood, his _own_ blood this time, dripped from the corner of his mouth. “ _NO_!”

“Arthur!” Sadie ordered, and the young hunter scrambled for his shotgun, but Dutch didn’t linger for another instant. He flew toward the window, pausing for a fraction of a second by Hosea, fingers curling in the air around the man’s head.

“You’ve killed me,” he gasped, and the look in his eyes was one of confusion. And then he was gone, leaving behind only broken glass and the overwhelming feeling that something had been lost in his going.


	9. The Aftermath

Sadie moved first after Dutch fled, getting to her feet and going to Hosea. Before she could speak, he waved his hand and said, “I’m fine, dear. Make sure your friend is okay.” She nodded and hurried to Charles while Hosea leaned out of John’s grasp and cupped the teen’s face in one hand, wiping a tear away with his thumb.

“It’s alright, John,” he said gently, “Help your brother gather up your tools, okay?”

“Hosea-,” John hiccupped, looking desperately into his father’s face, but Hosea just shook his head.

“We’re…we’re done here,” he replied softly. “The sooner we leave the better.” He urged the boy off the sofa and John turned reluctantly, bending to pick up the pistol and returning it to the huntress. Hosea stood as well, going to the window Dutch had fled through. Resting his palms on the wooden sill, he leaned out through the broken glass, but there was nothing to be seen but the storm. Even the mountains were obscured by the oncoming dark of night and the unrelenting downpour that fell like a curtain in front of Hosea’s eyes. He started shivering, but it wasn’t from the cold.

The dark seemed to loom in at him, defying the candlelight of the room, and he drew back quickly, catching the back of his hand on a shard of glass as he did so. Instinctively, he brough the cut to his mouth, and when the taste of iron hit his tongue he suddenly felt like throwing up. The world pitched for a second, and he grabbed for the windowsill, but a strong hand on his arm steadied him instead.

He looked up into Arthur face, finding his own pain mirrored in the blue irises and fine lines gathering about the man’s eyes and mouth.

 _‘He’s too young to look so worn,’_ Hosea thought in dismay. _‘Why did I make him grow up so fast?’_

“We’re ready to go,” Arthur said quietly, his voice as gentle as the hand that still held Hosea’s arm. “We can leave here.”

As sweet as that proposition sounded to Hosea’s ears, he now realized that fleeing the castle would only cause them more trouble. He looked out to where the storm raged and patted Arthur’s hand, subtly telling him it was okay to let go. The hunter did, but reluctantly.

“We wouldn’t make it far in this,” Hosea said, the words bitter in his mouth. “We’ll set up camp in the main hall. I don’t want to be in this room anymore.”

Arthur, bless him, didn’t comment on the way his voice cracked on the last admission and simply went to tell the others that it would be safer to stay here for the night. Hosea heard John’s protest, but the huntress seemed to agree with the decision. Her face seemed familiar, but Hosea couldn’t quite place it, and he was too exhausted to search his mind. He was afraid if he thought too much about anything he wouldn’t be able to suppress everything he was trying so hard to keep from bubbling to the surface. 

Arthur was at his shoulder again then, saying, “Let’s go downstairs, Pa,” and Hosea’s heart nearly shattered right then and there. But he kept himself from falling to pieces as they descended the stairwell and set up the most comfortable camp they could, given that all of them wanted to be anywhere but there. Arthur brought Grace into the hall and started a fire with the little wood that had been bundled on the horse’s back. They went through an awkward round of introductions, where Charles shook Hosea’s hand silently and Sadie greeted him with eyes that blazed with anger. In them, Hosea could see that her rage was fueled by failure. 

“You kept my boys safe,” he said, holding her hand in both of his for a long moment. He knew he had recognized her; The Bloody Menace…of course. “Thank you.”

She relaxed a little upon seeing he did not blame her for what had transpired, but frustration still creased her brow. Hosea knew all too well what she was feeling; it was never easy to lose someone on a job…the loss felt personal every time.

 _‘And more so this time,’_ he thought, settling back on a dusty blanket Arthur had found somewhere. He stared into the fire, watching the sparks rise as the hunter stirred the embers. His gaze followed the burning cinders as they danced upward, eventually dying into black ash as they neared the lofty ceiling. He sat like that for a long time, until another shiver racked his body and he glanced around at the others. Charles and John were asleep; the teen had unconsciously curled up against the wolf’s side as he slept, and Hosea stood, taking another blanket and draping it over the two to protect them from the chills of the drafty space. Sadie was sitting just inside the door, methodically cleaning her pistols, so Hosea turned to Arthur, who had retreated to a blanket and was sitting, chin in hand. Hosea found the hunter watching him, and the young man averted his eyes when he was caught in the action. Tucking the edge of the cloth closer around John, Hosea sat down beside Arthur.

“How is your injury?” he asked, motioning to Arthur’s chest. “Have you taken care of it properly?”

“Charles did,” Arthur mumbled. “It’s fine.”

“Charles did,” Hosea sighed. He smiled a little and pulled the hunter’s hat down so it covered his eyes. “You’re all grown up, son. You can change your own bandages now.”

Arthur took the hat off, and his expression was clouded, angry. Flames crackling over wood, and wind howling through chinks in old stone were the only sounds in the hall and Hosea shifted nearer. Arthur drew the back of hand over his eyes, not meeting Hosea’s gaze.

“I tried to tell myself I was okay with it,” the hunter said, voice catching in his throat. “If him dying was what kept you safe, then-.” A sob interrupted the words. “But I didn’t want-!”

Hosea put his hand over Arthur’s gripping it tightly as his son wept quiet tears. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “You did everything you could.”

“I’m a fool,” Arthur sobbed. “John trusted me to keep our family safe and I didn’t. I ain’t good for nothing but messing up. I didn’t move fast enough when A-Aldric got him and I didn’t fight hard enough now! I m-made you kill him, ‘sea, I _made you kill him_!”

“Shut up,” Hosea said, choking on the words. He swallowed, trying to keep his voice from failing even as the first tears streamed down his face. Grasping Arthur’s shoulder, he pulled the young man, who was shuddering with heavy breaths, to his chest. “Don’t you _dare_ think that. Don’t you dare.” He didn’t have the strength for anything more, and simply held Arthur, letting the hunter’s cries become muffled in his shirt. For his own sobs, he bit his lip and tried to ignore the way his heart protested against this stifling of emotion as it beat painfully against his ribcage. He needed to keep his wits and sanity, for Arthur, for John, but every time he closed his eyes he saw Dutch’s face…not the cruel, sneering visage he had been company to for the past days, no. His mind could think of one expression only, and it conjured up the panicked look Dutch had given him only a hours ago.

 _You’ve killed me_.

The words echoed like a desperate cry against the inside of Hosea’s skull and he buried his face in Arthur’s mop of hair, unable to smother his grief any longer. Arthur shifted in his grasp, returning the embrace as he felt his father break down above him. Hosea’s hand drifted to his own neck, touched the two small marks there. Marks that, at last, would have time to heal.

-

Arthur woke from a sleep that was anything but restful. As he sat up from the cold stone floor, stiff and chilled from a fire that had burned out hours ago, he wondered if he would have been better off not resting at all. Fitful sleep brought only ill feelings that lingered in his waking mind, though he couldn’t remember details of the bad dreams. He didn’t care to try.

A quick survey of the hall told him the locations of his companions. Charles was by the door, on watch since a few hours ago, Sadie was packing up, and John and Hosea were both still asleep, wrapped tightly in their respective blankets. Arthur crossed to his brother and nudged him in the side with the toe of his boot, being consciously gentler than he may have been at times in the past.

“Hey,” he said, “Time to wake up.”

John grumbled, instinctively pulling the blanket farther over his head, but then tugged it back down, peering out at Arthur. “We leavin’?” he asked in a small tone.

Arthur nodded. “Yeah. Help Sadie tear down camp, okay?”

John nodded and sat up without his usual complaints or whines about his big brother ordering him around. Leaving the teen to put his boots on, Arthur went next to Hosea. He regretted waking the man; it didn’t seem fair to drag him out of the escapism of sleep when the waking world was so cruel. Still, he put a hand on Hosea’s arm and shook him lightly.

“The rain’s stopped and the sun’s up.”

It took a moment for Hosea to come to consciousness, and when he turned to look at Arthur, the hunter saw remnants of drying tears on his cheeks. Patting the man on the shoulder, Arthur said quietly, “Let’s get out of here.”

The trip down the mountainside was uneventful. They travelled slow for Hosea’s sake, since the man was nowhere near well enough for hard travel. He rode Grace at Arthur’s insistence, though he’d put up an argument that the supplies she carried were far more important than the tiredness of his legs. Charles had ended that argument by putting a hand on Hosea’s shoulder, looking fiercely into his eyes and saying in a low, stern voice,

“I can carry anything we need. Listen to your son, for your own wellbeing and his peace of mind.”

And so Hosea gave in to the request and spent the rest of the journey on Grace’s sturdy back, much to Arthur’s relief. The wheeze of his father’s lungs had begun to fray his already threadbare nerves to the point of tearing. Hosea seemed relieved at the outcome too, and a little color came back to his cheeks when he was given the opportunity to rest, though he was still much to thin for Arthur’s liking. He made a mental note to order the largest, hottest supper the Inn offered when they returned to Casturn.

 _‘We could all use a hot meal_ , _’_ he thought as they made their way down the trail. Every one of them needed the comfort of food and a bed after that atrocity of a rescue. It hurt too much to think about it for long, so Arthur spent the trip ‘fussing over’ Hosea, as the man put it. Arthur didn’t care what it was called as long as Hosea was regaining his health. His strength of mind and soul was another matter entirely, however, one Arthur wasn’t sure how to fix.

 _‘Dutch would know,’_ he thought one night despite himself, as he brushed out John’s hair. The dark locks had scarcely been touched since the start of all this, resulting in a miserable tangle of knots. _‘He’d have some good words to say. But…if Dutch were here, everything would be okay.’_

“OW!” John yelped, slapping at Arthur’s hand as he yanked the comb a little too hard while lost in thought. “Ho-se-a! Arthur’s pulling my hair out!”

“I’m sure you’ll look fine bald,” Hosea quipped, and Arthur grinned, a real smile that Hosea mirrored. And that was something, at least.

But the attempts at normality could only do so much and when they reached Casturn on the evening of their second day of travel, Hosea spurned any offers of food, saying he just wanted to go to bed. Powerless against the weary pain in his father’s eyes, Arthur didn’t push it. He only managed to get a few swallows down himself before the idea of eating more made him sick and he pushed the plate away.

John wasn't there, having decided to spend the night at Abigail’s room behind the inn, and Arthur let him. If the young woman was where John could find relief, then that’s where he should be. It was just Hosea and Arthur in the rented room and the hunter made sure the older man was sleeping comfortably before sneaking out and down the stairs to the main room. Sadie was sitting at the bar, talking with the bartender, and she raised her glass to him as he passed. His response was a single nod as he made his way to the front door. If he hadn’t felt the wight of responsibility so heavy of his shoulders, he may have gotten a drink himself, but he was too afraid of losing himself to the liquor.

Instead, he headed outside. The air was cool on his skin and he enjoyed it for a moment as he allowed his eyes to get used to the darkness. Clouds covered the moon, shielding its white light as they had done for the last two nights.

 _‘At least it isn’t raining,’_ Arthur thought as he crossed the yard to the barn. As he braced his hand against the door, a single wet drop fell to the back of his neck. _‘And…I jinxed it.’_

The light pitter-patter of rain beat against the roof of the barn, sounding like a heartbeat as Arthur stepped inside. The interior was warm and smelled of hay and horses, a comforting blend to Artur’s senses. Passing by the first few stalls he reached his own horse, Arrow, and patted the gelding’s neck.

“Hey, boy,” he sighed, scratching the horse’s cheek. “You seen Charles?”

Arrow huffed out a warm breath, and Arthur smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Pulling a carrot from his pocket, he offered it to Arrow, who chomped at the treat as the hunter continued farther into the barn. Rounding a pile of haybales brought to his eyes the sight of Charles sitting hunched over on the ground.

“Charles!”

Worry flaring up, Arthur dropped to one knee in front of the wolf, stretching out a hand to grasp his shoulder before he could stop himself. “Charles, are you okay?”

Yellow eyes lifted, meeting Arthur’s anxious face. “I’m fine,” the wolf replied, voice catching slightly. “Just…rough night.”

Arthur relaxed a little, grateful that he wasn’t dying at least. “Sorry, I didn’t know what-.”

Charles’s hand wrapped around Arthur’s wrist, stopping the hunter’s words. “Don’t apologize, Arthur.”

Removing his arm from the grasp, Arthur sat down beside Charles, unsure what to say. After a moment of silence, in which he wrestled with the idea of broaching the subject, he risked,

“The wolf in you…is that it?”

Charles nodded, arms wrapped around his knees. “Yes. He fights to get out, and tonight he’s particularly angry.”

Arthur pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to Charles, who shook his head. “Angry at what?”

“Everything,” Charles growled. “But mostly at your loss. He thinks we could have done better, fought harder.”

Arthur lit the roll with hands that trembled slightly. Taking a long drag, he blew the smoke into the air, watching as it curled in the dim light. “Like you said,” he replied in a low tone. “We did our best. That’s all we could do.”

Charles faced him, eyes glinting like the burning end of the cigarette. “Do you believe that?”

Arthur shook his head, returning the tobacco to his lips and getting to his feet. “I have to.” He stared in the direction of the door for a long second, then turned, holding out a hand. “Come inside for tonight.”

The rain drummed harder overhead and some of the horses shifted nervously when lightning flashed outside. The thunder that followed was only a distant rumble in the mountains; the real storm had yet to arrive.

“I can’t,” Charles sighed. “Not with…this.” He gestured to the entirety of himself and Arthur’s heart felt constrained in his chest.

“Then I’ll stay out here.”

“And leave Hosea alone?”

Arthur frowned. “You being by yourself, it-, it ain’t fair.”

“Few things are.”

“Please, Charles.”

He didn’t withdraw his arm and after a long moment, in which thunder boomed again, closer this time, the wolf accepted the offered hand.

“Very well,” he said. “But only because I know you won’t be happy if I don’t agree.”

They went to the back door of the inn, running to get inside before the storm really began, and climbed the steps to the second floor as quietly as possible. Once in the room they hung their damp shirts on a chair, trying not to wake Hosea as they undressed.

“You should sleep,” Charles said. “We both should.”

“You take the second bed,” Arthur replied. “I can share with Hosea.”

“Thank you.” Charles said, sitting down on mattress. “You’re a good friend.”

They kept the lamp lit, none of them feeling much like bringing darkness into the room, but that wasn’t why Arthur found himself unable to sleep.

 _‘Friend.’_

Arthur couldn’t recall the last time, if ever, that he’d had a friend that wasn’t his family. He turned the word over in his head as he lay in bed; it felt strange, new, but good, and he tried it out on his tongue in a whisper.

“Friend.”

“Hmm?” Hosea murmured, and Arthur cringed.

“Nothing, sorry.”

Hosea mumbled something, already asleep again, and Arthur observed the gentle rise and fall of his father’s shoulders as he slept. The last time they’d slept in the same bed Arthur had been a teenager, and Hosea had told him stories to chase away bad dreams.

 _‘Guess you’re the one who’s gonna have bad dreams now,’_ Arthur thought, looking at the small bandage that covered the puncture wounds on Hosea’s neck. Shifting closer, the hunter curved an arm around the older man, head resting on his back. Hosea had always been the one to take care of him when things were dark, always been the one who could chase away the shadows simply by being at his side.

 _‘Don’t worry, Pa,’_ Arthur thought tiredly as sleep crept up on him, _‘I’m right here….”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While playing the game I always use the default Tennessee walker, (I got very attached to him the first time I played), anyway, he's got an arrow-shaped mark on his rump so... I named him Arrowbutt. However, I decided to shorten it to Arrow in this fic xD


	10. The Telegram

“So what now?”

Morning. The main room of the inn was busy, filled with patrons looking for a meal, but Arthur and Hosea had found a little corner table by the window to have their breakfast. After sharing a plate of toast, eggs and potatoes, over which they talked of anything but monsters, or Dutch, Arthur finally broached the subject.

“What do we do now that…this is all over?”

Hosea wiped his mouth on his napkin and Arthur watched as he tried to find an answer to the question. After a moment, he replied, “I suppose…we go back to what we did before. Hunting monsters. Saving people.”

His tone was lackluster. Arthur rubbed his jaw, feeling the scruff there that was steadily growing longer.

“Do you want to do that?” he asked.

Hosea sighed, leaning back in his chair. “The point isn’t if I want it, the point is that I’m helping people, saving lives.”

“You shouldn’t have to feel responsible.” Arthur looked down at the empty plate, wrestling with his next words. “Just…just because we lost Dutch doesn’t mean you have to redeem yourself through hunting.”

He looked up when Hosea’s hand rested over his and found the older man smiling. “Don’t let anyone say you aren’t a wise man, Arthur,” Hosea said. Then his face fell again and he turned to look out the window, watching the street but not really seeing it. “I suppose I just don’t know what else to do with myself.”

Arthur picked up his cup and took a long drink of coffee, the bitter liquid met the sour feeling in his stomach. Despite the compliment, he didn't feel wise or particularly enlightened. Hosea and Dutch were always the smart ones, and with Hosea doubting himself and Dutch gone, Arthur felt like he was trying to put together a puzzle with half of the pieces missing.

His inability to collect the right words was interrupted by the appearance of John and Abigail at the front door of the inn. The two young people looked around the place and Arthur lifted his hand to simplify their search. Abigail led the way to the table, weaving between other patrons until she stood beside the two hunters.

"Hosea," she said joyfully. "It's so good to see you."

"And you, my dear," Hosea replied, rising to accept her hug. She held onto him for a long moment, gripping his shirt and holding him close.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry about...." The girl hid her face from his as she said the name. "...Dutch."

"Thank you, Abigail." Hosea patted her back and tried to smile, but Arthur saw the way he stiffened, and how he swallowed back the emotion welling up inside. John obviously saw it too, for he cast a glance at Arthur, his eyes filled with regret.

"Come on, sit down," the hunter said, trying to break the mood. "You two eat breakfast yet?"

"Just woke up," John admitted sheepishly and Hosea laughed.

"I suppose sleep is good for your health. But so is eating!" He ushered Abigail into his chair despite her protests and John grabbed a seat from another table. As Hosea went to do the same, Arthur saw Sadie across the room, and she jerked her head to say 'Come here'.

"Take my chair," the hunter said, rising. "I gotta go talk to Sadie anyway."

He left the three of them on the topic of sleep and food as he squeezed his way past tables and people's backs. The pit that had been in his stomach for weeks grew impossibly larger as he drew nearer to the huntress. He could guess what she was going to say: she and Charles were leaving. There was no more hunt, no more rescue, and yet Arthur couldn’t bear the thought of them going. If they went…it meant that this was really over, a truth Arthur faced every second and yet hadn’t quite acknowledged.

“What is it?” he asked when he reached her, his tone one of resignation, but instead of a saying goodbye, Sadie held up a rectangle of paper.

“Got a telegram from the next town over. Think you’d better read it.”

With confusion building at the realization that perhaps he had been wrong, coupled with why any telegram would concern him, Arthur took the paper and unfolded it, heart quickening with every line.

TO THE HUNTER IN CASTURN **STOP** WE REQUEST YOUR HELP WITH A VAMPIRE **STOP** IT HAS BEEN DRAINING CATTLE FOR THREE NIGHTS **STOP** PLEASE HELP BEFORE WE LOSE MORE THAN LIVESTOCK **STOP**.

When he finished reading, Arthur thought he may actually pass out, and gripped the back of a chair. “You think it’s-? But Hosea, the stake- he died.”

“All I’m saying is that there ain’t been any vampires in these mountains for years and suddenly there one, right after Dutch?” Sadie’s voice held a warning, one that Arthur missed.

“Why not tell Hosea right away?” Arthur glanced over at the table and found the man in question watching them, perhaps surmising that something was amiss. The hunter turned so his face would reveal nothing to anyone but Sadie. “Why just tell me?”

Sadie crossed her arms, eyes boring into Arthur’s. “Because what if it’s not him? Do you want to get Hosea’s hopes up only to cut them down again?”

Arthur looked down at the telegram, reading through the message again. “I can’t keep this from him,” he said. “He has to know.”

Sadie hesitated, then nodded. “Aright. Let’s tell him then.”

When they walked up to the table, before either of them could speak a word, Hosea looked up at them with a sharp eye and said. “It’s about Dutch.”

“Maybe,” Sadie cautioned, ignoring the way John and Abigail both gasped. “Maybe not. How did you know?”

“I’m not stupid.” The man held out a hand. “May I?”

Arthur handed the telegram to him and they all watched with apprehension as he read it, waiting for his verdict. A shadow passed over Hosea’s face, but then it was gone, and he looked neither happy nor sad when he said, “Brocken. It’s only half a day’s ride from here; we could get there before nightfall if we leave now.”

“Then we’re going?” John asked excitedly. “Do you really think Dutch is alive?”

“Perhaps.” Hosea returned the telegram to Arthur and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “John, begin gathering what we’ll need. Abigail, if you could be a dear and help him?” The two teenagers nodded and darted off, and Hosea looked next to Arthur. “Horses, my boy, is your task.”

“On it,” Arthur said, only pausing to cast a look at Sadie before leaving.

Hosea turned last to the huntress and her frown. “Sit,” he offered, and she did, crossing her arms on the table. “I know, it’s hardly professional to let the heart dictate action. But if there’s any chance, I can’t ignore it.”

“I don’t blame you for following this lead,” Sadie replied. “In fact, I hope it’s him.”

“I don’t know if I do,” Hosea said quietly. “Perhaps it’s selfish, but I don’t want to have to fail a second time.”

Sadie pursed her lips. "I'm going to be frank with you, Mr. Matthews," she said. "When you staked Mr. van der Linde, did you _try_ to miss his heart?"

If she thought the question would garner an outrage, she was mistaken. Hosea's voice was calm and weighted as he replied, "I can't deny I hoped I would fail. But my focus was on saving my sons, Miss Adler. If I didn't hit his heart, it was not for lack of trying."

"I know you love Arthur and John," Sadie said. "But if their devotion to Dutch is anything to go by, then maybe your hand was stayed by something stronger than a conscious decision."

Hosea leaned back in chair. He couldn't deny her logic; if his hand had been guided by love than it could just as easily have been swayed by it, and it was undoubtably the same affection that made him so desperate to go to Brocken. This vampire may not even _be_ Dutch, but they wouldn't know until they found it.

"I'm just saying," Sadie interjected his thoughts, "If this is too hard a decision to make for you, I would...I could go to Brocken instead."

"Are you offering to kill my husband for me?"

If Sadie hadn't been the seasoned huntress she was, Hosea was sure she would have gone white at his comeback. As it was, she cast her gaze downward for the first time since sitting and he immediately felt bad. Reaching across the table to grasp her wrist, her attention was brought back to his face, which expressed guilt alongside steely determination.

“That was unwarranted,” he said. “You’ve been nothing but helpful and kind toward us and deserve only my thanks.”

Sadie’s mouth quirked upwards and she turned her hand over to clasp his arm in return. “No hard feelings, Mr. Matthews.” She withdrew from his grasp and stood, tilting her hat slightly to him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go saddle my horse.”

-

“Jeezus, kid, don’t you know how to tie down a saddlebag?” Arthur grumbled as he undid the knot John had done up only a moment before on Arrow’s saddle. “Gonna make us lose all our stuff.”

“I knotted it, it’s fine,” John replied from where he was fixing the reins on his horse, Rachel. “Wait, did you just _undo_ it?”

“Oh, calm down!” Abigail said, exasperated, from where she was brushing Rachel’s mane. “Is this really what you should be worrying about right now?”

John blushed a little, and Arthur felt his annoyance fade. “You’re right,” the older brother said. “We’re just…riled up, I guess.”

“What’s going on?”

Arthur turned to see Charles walking through the open barn doors into the midst of the commotion. “News,” the hunter said, and passed him the telegram. Charles read it and handed it back, the furrowing of his brow his only notable reaction.

“So, you’re heading to Brocken?” The wolf started toward his mare, Taima. “I’ll prepare.”

Arthur heart simultaneously rose and fell, causing a painful jolt in his chest. He’d been avoiding the topic for a while now, but he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer, so when he saw Sadie enter the barn, he left Arrow and joined the huntress by Hera.

He shuffled his feet into the dust and loose hay, waiting until she acknowledged him. He didn’t want to say what had come to confess.

“What’s bugging you?” she asked, and Arthur patted Hera’s nose.

“We, um, we ain’t got much money left,” he admitted quietly. “We can’t pay you or Charles if you come with us.”

“I see,” she replied, and he held out his hand to her.

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it, from the bottom of his heart. “You’ve done a lot for John and me. We-.”

“Shut up, kid,” she interrupted, pushing his hand down. “Job’s not done, is it?”

He stared at her, unsure if she was serious, and she smiled.

“I never quit in the middle of a job. You’re stuck with us until this is over, Arthur.”

He stared at her for a long moment, and Charles, passing behind him with a harness, patted him on the back.

“Get along, mister,” Sadie said, waving her hand. “We’ve got things to get done, and standing around gawking isn’t helping.”

Stuttering his thanks, Arthur returned to his preparations, not looking at anyone or saying a word for fear of bursting into tears.

Within half an hour they were saddled, packed and ready to go. Hosea was on Grace, since his horse was days away at a different stable with Dutch’s mount. Arthur leaned over and patted his father on the head, teasing, “A great man on a small horse!” and John let out a laugh.

“Excuse me, Grace is a wonderful horse,” Hosea retorted, scratching the horse’s neck. “She and I share qualities such as tolerance and stamina; things one needs if they are to travel with you boys.”

“Hilarious,” Arthur grinned, and ahead of them, Sadie stirred Hera into a faster pace, motivating the others to do the same.

They left Casturn at their backs with Abigail waving farewell from the barn, calling goodbye and good luck as the sun crawled toward the highest point in the sky. The shadows of the trees welcomed them into a cool embrace as the path wound them through the foothills of the mountain, like water following a river downstream to its final destination. The destination was Brocken, and with any luck, evening would bring the grand finale of their journey.

-

In a cave that was cool with damp and darkness and home to nothing more than bugs and few bats, something was hiding. They had fled there, half dazed with pain, with no plan that this was the shelter they would find. It had simply been the nearest refuge when they couldn’t go anymore, a place far enough from civilization that no one would hurt him, _and so he wouldn’t hurt any of them._

Dutch curled in the farther corner of the cave, shaking with pain. It _hurt_ , agonizingly so, scorching the heart that no longer beat, a heart that _shouldn’t feel pain_. And yet here he was, wrapping in his cloak on a bed of rock, feeling like his body was being torn apart by emotion.

_Feelings._

He’d pulled the stake from his body not long after fleeing the castle. He had thought death would claim him, but the stake had been a mere centimeter from his heart and the flesh and bone would heal quickly. He’d cast the wood away without stemming the toxic blood that flowed freely out of the unstopped wound. It was the second injury, the one inflicted with words rather than weapons, that bore down on him and forced the him to stop, lest he die from the sheer pressure of it on his soul.

_‘You’re hurting our boys, Dutch.’_

Hosea...Hosea had _stabbed_ him, tried to kill him. Dutch didn’t understand why he didn’t want what was offered to him: Power, immortality, the ability to be together without the fear of separation. What could be better about the life of a human, a momentary existence that was soon burned out like a short candle? What was there to be found in the hope and love and fury that built a person...forged a family?

But then...Dutch felt fury, didn't he? Anger when Hosea wouldn't obey, rage when he betrayed him. A constant, fiery hatred of the world, and of himself.

He curled in on himself further, hands going to his head, tangling in his hair, tugging hard to feel anything but the emotion. It was unrelenting, however, burrowing deeper and deeper, drilling into his heart, and he let out a sob.

What if…what if _he_ was the one who was wrong? What if he was the fool? The bad guy?

 _‘No,’_ he thought, desperately reaching for the cold self-assurance that had come with his turning, _‘I’m right. I am in control.’_

The confidence melted in his grasp, running through his fingers and leaving him holding nothing but regret. He brought a shaking hand to his mouth, biting the back of it to stop the sound of his weeping, and felt the sharp points of his teeth dig into the flesh.

_‘I can’t be human again.’_

The thought calmed him somewhat and he was able to wipe away the tears he hadn’t realized streamed from his eyes. There was no going back, despite this flaw that allowed him to feel so deeply. It was simply a challenge he would have to overcome….

He took a deep breath, the action a reflex rather than a necessity, and took in his surroundings. The cave wasn’t deep, and early morning sunlight was shining at the entrance, prompting him to draw back to the farthest wall. He had lain there for far longer than he’d thought. There was nothing he could do now but wait for nightfall; perhaps with the quiet clarity of darkness to enfold him, his mind would settle.

Until then, he would sleep, and pray that vampires did not have bad dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *devious chuckle* Haha, there's more!


	11. To Kill a Vampire

It was on Dutch’s third night since fleeing that something changed.

Since leaving the cave he’d found refuge in, the vampire had discovered a small farming village only a few kilometers down the mountainside. Taking to the cattle for his nightly meals, he had not touched a human, and told himself it was because he was not strong enough to face possible confrontation yet. Even with his supernatural healing, he needed time to recover from the fight in the castle, so he drank animal blood to avoid the town itself, sneaking into the pastures and barns when only a single farmhand stood guard against wolves. The unsuspecting fellow never saw the vampire come and go, and only discovered the ill cattle the following morning.

 _‘This is far less conspicuous,’_ Dutch told himself as he wiped cows blood from his mouth. Retreating to the cave he’d accepted as his daylight resting place, he tried to ignore the nagging thought at the back of mind: that the idea of consuming human blood made his stomach turn. _Guilt is not a vampire’s way_ , he repeated over and over in his head, trying to draw back the cold, callous arrogance that had consumed him when he’d stolen Hosea away.

 _Hosea._ The very notion of the man rubbed raw his unfeeling heart and threatened to break down the emotionless barriers he constructed around it.

_‘Don’t think of him.’_

But on the third night, just after sunset when the sky was still painted in colors that were swiftly giving way to the stars, he saw him again.

Dutch had come down the mountainside early, frustrated and claustrophobic in his own thoughts. Slinking past the outer houses of the village, he at first thought that his mind was playing tricks on him, and he paused, listening.

No, there it was again…a familiar tone.

John?

The teen’s voice came from somewhere near the entrance of the village and Dutch drew closer, following the sound, weaving between houses and sticking to shadows until he could see the wide cobblestone street that was the main square. There were a few people around, mostly outside the tavern, but Dutch cared not for them. His eyes were drawn to then group that stood a little off to the side, at the edge of the warm light emanating from the tavern.

There they were, all of them. John, Arthur…the huntress and the werewolf…and Hosea, who had the attention of the others and seemed to be giving instructions.

Dutch waited for rage to consume him, _wanted_ it to, wished he felt anything beside the sudden emptiness ballooning in his chest. With nothing to fuel him into a reveal, he stayed quiet, creeping forward a meter and staying close to the building that concealed him.

“Once you’ve scouted the fields, meet back at the inn,” Hosea was saying to the huntress. “Charles, Arthur, we’re going to need some supplied from the general store. Sadie can inform you of what.”

When had Hosea become so thin, so worn? The last Dutch remembered, he had been as lively as ever. The smallest frown tugged at the vampire’s lips, an involuntary reaction to sighting the bandage at Hosea’s neck.

“What about me?” John was asking, and Hosea patted him on the shoulder.

“You and I are going to take a stroll around town to see what we can find out about this vampire.”

_‘They’re here for me.’_

The realization brought his instincts crashing back down on his shoulders and he retreated further back into the shadows. The group was dispersing now, starting down different streets to accomplish their respective tasks, and Dutch trailed after Hosea and John.

He pursued them down a street lined with houses, and then they turned off toward the largest stone buildings in town; the warehouses. He lost them briefly around the corner of a building and when he rounded the wall, John was nowhere to be seen and Hosea had paused in a pool of yellow light cast down by a flickering lamp affixed to the side of the building.

The area they were in was quiet, void of any life. The closest person would be the nightguard, but his route did not bring him down this narrow space between the warehouses, something Dutch had made note of while sneaking down to feed from the cattle.

Hosea was standing with his back to Dutch, looking upward at the sky where stars were sprinkling across the darkness. Still, the vampire heard him clearly when he said,

“Hello, Dutch.”

Dutch moved out from the shadows and Hosea turned to face him. They stood, the vampire shroud in darkness, the human bathed in lamplight, only a few meters apart. A short moment passed in which they eyed each other, silently gauging the situation.

“How did you know I was here?” Dutch asked and Hosea shook his head.

“I didn’t know it was you, only that a vampire was in Brocken. I hoped-.” He cut himself off and Dutch saw his jaw clench briefly. “I knew that if it was you, you would not leave us alone for long.”

“So you have come to kill me a second time?” Dutch spread his arms, revealing the hole in his shirt and vest. The flesh beneath was healed, but blood still stained the cloth around it. “Seeing as you _failed_ the first time?”

Hosea’s face was impassive, unreadable. His eyes locked with Dutch’s and suddenly the vampire felt like _he_ was the one held in a thrall, unable to move under Hosea’s gaze.

“Both of us have been given a second chance,” the man said. “I plant to use mine to save you. What will you do?”

Dutch’s lips drew back from his teeth in a snarl, the threat propelling him into a mode of self-preservation and defense.

“I will turn you, _darling_ ,” he growled, “and settle this once and for all!”

He leapt forward, intent on getting his hands on Hosea’s shoulder, his teeth in his neck, but as he propelled himself forward Hosea shouted,

“Now!” and he suddenly saw movement in the corner of his eye, shapes emerging from doorways on either side, and his momentum slowed.

He reacted too late. In the time it took him to recognize the ambush, Charles and Arthur were already on top of him, using their collective bodyweight and the element of surprise to bring him to his knees. He went down with a grunt, hands spread on the ground to break his fall. His elbow caught Arthur’s ribs and the young man’s grip loosened, allowing Dutch to twist around onto his back, legs lifting and heels digging into Charles’s stomach, forcing the wolf back.

In the brief moment during which both young men were pulling in the air that had been knocked form their lungs, Dutch slipped free. He would not run, no, this time he would not flee, he would _win_. If he could get to Hosea, trap the man in his grasp, the others would not _dare_ attack again.

This plan of action constructed itself in the span of seconds, precious time in which Dutch launched himself at Hosea. The man’s eyes widened, one hand up as a useless shield, the other going for his gun as the vampire descended on him, but Dutch never reached him.

Sadie let out a yell from behind and suddenly his throat was constricted by something, and he felt solid links of chain dig into his skin as the huntress yanked on the lasso _hard_ , forcing him backwards.

“Come on, ya bastard!” she yelled, her strength unwavering as she pulled. “Give up already!”

There was no need to breath, so the chain did little to strangle him, but it served as enough of a distraction so when Charles, now in his wolf form, tackled him, he went down. The wolf claws dug to the vampire’s sides, keeping him pinned and Dutch hear Hosea shout,

“Arthur!”

The name was an order, and Dutch looked up to see Arthur uncork a bottle of something, holy water, he discovered as it was splashed into his face, essentially blinding him.

As he let out a shriek of pain, two pairs of hands forced his arms behind his back, binding them with a length of chain that was wound several times all the way up to his elbows. His legs were still free however, and he kicked and thrashed wildly. Charles bit down on his shirt, the cloth tearing as Dutch fought. He managed to get to his knees, but then Arthur had a grip on him from behind and Sadie wrenched at the chain around his neck, pitching him face first to the cobblestone.

Charles reestablished his grip, all four paws heavy on the vampire’s back, joined by Arthur sitting on his shoulders and Sadie holding onto both lengths of chain that had him bound. Still struggling fiercely, panic rising in his chest, Dutch watched as Hosea approached him and knelt beside his head.

“Don’t do it,” he begged, trying to catch Hosea’s eye. “Please, I can’t live as a human again. Would you put me through the hell of being mortal?”

“John, we’re ready,” Hosea called, avoiding the vampire’s gaze, and the teen darted from the doorway to his side, placing the syringe in Hosea’s outstretched hand.

“I’ll kill you,” Dutch hissed, pleas switching to panicked anger upon seeing the potion. “If you do this, I _will kill every single one of you_!”

Above him, knees slipping, Arthur said, “Hosea, hurry-!”

Hosea didn’t answer either of them, removing the cover from the end of the syringe and putting one hand on Dutch’s head. His touch was strong, and gentle to a degree that shocked the vampire. Part of him wanted to melt into the touch and never leave, but a darker, more powerful force compelled him to keep fighting even as Hosea sank the end of the needle deep into his neck.

A burning sensation _ripped_ through the vampire, starting at the point where the needle dug into his skin and spreading outward like a wave. Screaming, he twisted and writhed under Arthur and Charles as they held him down through the throes of agony that assaulted every nerve in his entire being. He felt like his veins were on fire, like the blood in them had been replaced with molten lava. Screams turned to pants and unintelligible choking sounds as his mind was overcome with the sensations running through him; he hadn’t thought such pain was possible, and spots of white popped in his vision, distorting the image of Hosea still kneeling over him. Suddenly he felt _scared_ , and the visceral fear caused a whimper to escape him.

“Oh, god,” he moaned, the only words he could force past his numb lips. “Hosea, help me….”

Then his ability to speak or think all but vanished as something exploded in his chest. He was sure he was dying and the world went white-.

-

Arthur bent over a little, staring down at Dutch, who had suddenly ceased to struggle and went utterly limp beneath him. “Is he…?”

Hosea leaned down, pressing his cheek to Dutch’s temple. It seemed an age that they stayed like that, an eternity in which all five of them waited with bated breath, hardly daring to blink lest it disrupt Hosea’s patient search. Until-.

“There,” the man breathed. Against his skin he could feel the weak beat, a pulse that threaded it way from a shaky heart. “He’s alive.”

“Just alive?” John asked, “Or…?”

“Human.” Hosea’s eyes slid shut as the rest of them let out a collective sigh. He could hear Dutch’s breath now too, soft and irregular, but growing steadily stronger with each inhalation. Leaning back, he waved a hand at the others. “Off, off, give him space. Take those chains away too, Sadie.”

“You sure?” She asked as Charles and Arthur clambered off. The hunter sank one hand into the fur of the wolf’s head and put the other on John’s shoulder as they stood to the side, watching. “If he’s still not himself for some reason, we just did a lot of nothing for him to get away again.”

Hosea nodded wearily. “You’re right, of course. Leave his arms.”

She nodded and removed the chain from Dutch’s neck. Hosea knelt forward again, brushing strands of hair from his husband’s forehead, feeling skin that was still chilly and cold. “Let’s get him inside.”

“Arthur and I can carry him,” Charles said, now human again himself. He tugged on the extra pair of pants Arthur had brought along in his pack then took Dutch’s feet while the hunter got his shoulders. The group started down the street toward the inn’s back door, John going ahead to make sure the way was clear and Sadie trailing close behind, keeping a sharp eye on Dutch’s inert form. Hosea walked beside his head, one hand resting on the man’s chest, wanting to be absolutely sure that the heartbeat kept growing steadily stronger.

They made it inside with no trouble and got Dutch in bed, untying his arms now, opting to chain one of his wrists to the bedpost instead. At this point, Hosea was fairly certain the potion had worked, for when he put his hand to the man’s forehead it held the warmth of mortality. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe it, however, not until he could look Dutch in the eyes and see that he was truly back.

“Everyone needs to stop crowding me,” he grouched a bit when they got Dutch settled. The room was small and no one wanted to leave him. “John can stay with me but the rest of you, scram!”

Sadie and Charles did as they were told but Arthur lingered until Hosea agreed to set off his gun if anything went wrong. Only then did the young hunter retreat to go eat dinner, leaving John and Hosea to keep vigil.

Hosea tucked the sheet around Dutch and turned to see John sitting backwards on a chair, eyes locked on the man in bed. Taking a seat of his own, he patted the teen on the back.

“He’ll be fine,” he said, lighting a cigarette, his first in a long time, and he breathed in deeply, enjoying the warmth of the tobacco smoke. “You did good, kid.”

“I was afraid,” John said in a quiet voice. “I thought we’d lose both of ya.”

“Look at us,” Hosea replied, letting a smile warm his words. “We’re both here, aren’t we? No need to be worried anymore.”

John turned his head on his arms, looking up at Hosea, and the man saw weeks of fear pooling into tears in the teen’s eyes. “I thought that even if we got you back…if Dutch was dead…you might…follow him.”

His voice got tiny at the end and Hosea put an arm around him, resting his head on John’s hair. He felt awful for scaring his youngest so and tried to keep any grief from his tone as he said, “I would never abandon you like that, my boy. Your life is valued far beyond my own happiness.”

John nodded and was silent for a long moment before asking, “Will things be the same after this?”

Hosea bit his lip. He had been wondering the same thing, and he naively hoped this entire incident would leave no lasting impact on their family, but at the same time he knew it was foolish to think everything would be as if nothing had happened.

“I don’t know,” he answered in a half-lie. It was too much to ask for things to be exactly the same as they had been, but if things could be mostly the same…he’d be satisfied. “I guess I can’t say what the future will hold.”

At the end of the hour, John was asleep on the chair with his head on Hosea’s lap and Arthur poked his head into the room.

“Everything okay?”

“Okay,” Hosea echoed, and the hunter stepped in, keeping his footsteps light. He came to a stop beside the chair and observed Dutch, who was still unconscious but had a noticeable flush of color to his cheeks.

“He good?”

“So far, yes,” Hosea replied. Reaching his arm up, he took Arthur’s hand in his own. “Thank you, son.”

“For what?”

Hosea shook his head. “What do you mean, for what? Arthur, you saved me and Dutch both. Don’t be humble now, you know it’s true.”

Arthur’s fingers tightened around his hand. “Aw, it was just….” He stumbled over his words. “I mean, I couldn’t just leave you….” He took in a deep breath and Hosea glanced up into his face, which was turned slightly away. “I…I never planned on saving Dutch. I didn’t think we could so I didn’t think much about it. I didn’t want him to die but…I focused on saving you, ya know? I dunno if he’ll forgive me for that.”

Hosea’s lips pressed into a fine line before answering. “You did what you thought was best.”

“I never wanted killing him to be an option,” Arthur continued, voice desperate. “I even told Sadie not to, just in case there was a way.”

“There’s no reason to ask forgiveness,” Hosea said. “It was out of your control as far as you knew. And when you were given a chance, you took it. How could we be mad at you for that?”

Arthur flashed him a little smile. “Thanks, Hosea….”

That out of the way, the older man couldn’t help but tease him a bit, poking him in the ribs. “The good thing that came out of this is that you finally found a friend. Don’t think I can’t see the way you look at Charles. Like he’s the moon that came down from the heavens!”

Arthur blushed and shuffled his feet, muttering, “ ’Sea! It ain’t like that at all.”

Pleased at the reaction, Hosea grinned. “Alright, alright. I’ll back off.”

“He’s really going to be okay, right?” Arthur asked after a minute, and Hosea nodded.

“Yes…I think he will. I think we all will be, with time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo they did it!  
> Just an epilogue-thingy left to post now!


	12. Epilogue

Early morning. The sun had not yet revealed itself beyond a slight purpling of the sky, and both Arthur and John were snoring on the second bed while Hosea drifted in and out of sleep where he was seated on the floor next to Dutch’s bedside. He was woken, however, by a soft touch on his hair and a voice whispering hoarsely,

“H…sea?”

Hosea was on his feet in an instant, both wary and delighted at seeing Dutch awake. Carefully sitting on the edge of the mattress, he asked in a hushed tone, “Dutch?”

“God, I feel awful,” the man groaned, the words coming out raspy, and Hosea winced at the growing bruises on his neck. Sadie had been clever to suggest the chains, but they would leave nasty marks on Dutch’s now-human body. The man in question was peering at Hosea curiously, and made to move his arm, but was stopped by the metal links around his wrist and the bedpost. Staring at the tether for a second, he shifted his gaze to Hosea, suspicious. “What’s this then?”

Hosea’s heart was pattering fast in his chest. “You…don’t remember?”

“Remember? Remember wh-?”

Dutch cut himself off with a choked noise and Hosea saw him looking at a spot out of his own range of eyesight. Lifting a hand, Hosea touched the bandage on his neck. It was really useless now; the wounds had closed up days ago, but he hadn’t been able to look at the marks without feeling sick, so he left them covered.

“Take it off,” Dutch said in a low tone, and when Hosea hesitated, the urgency in the request grew. “Let me see!”

“Okay,” Hosea soothed, and removed the cloth, revealing the two puncture wounds that were already healing into scars. Dutch stared at them for a long time and Hosea could see the panic rising, the memories returning with each short breath. Reaching out, he took Dutch’s face in his hands, leaning over to press his forehead to his husband’s. This close he could feel the rapid beat of Dutch’s heart and brown eyes filled his gaze. Wonderful, beautiful deep brown eyes without a hint of red in them.

“What have I done to you?” Dutch whispered, hands coming up to rest on the sides Hosea’s head. They were shaking as one hand sank fingers into blond hair, the other drifting downward to touch the marks. “I remember…I-.” The hand curled into a fist then released, resting on Hosea’s shoulder. “That wasn’t me. I didn’t- I _wouldn’t-_.” He pushed him back, putting a few inches of space between them, expression anxious. “You know that, right? You know I wouldn’t hurt you?”

“I know,” Hosea said, but even as he spoke, he could feel the way his body tensed when Dutch held him. He tried to hide it though, and pressed a kiss to the man’s brow. “You don’t have to explain it to me.”

Dutch pulled him into a desperate embrace, clutching him to his chest, and Hosea shivered when his breath ghosted over his neck. Still, he returned the hug, and couldn’t deny it was a blessing to feel a heartbeat in the body he was pressed against. He focused on that, letting the thump in his ear calm him, caught between being uncomfortable in Dutch’s arms and never wanting to leave. Time was the only thing that would wash away the lingering fear that the vampiric curse had left behind, no matter how much he wished for everything to be the same here and now.

As the first quiet sob escape Dutch’s lips, Hosea was just happy that they had been given the chance to find out just how good of a healer time was.

-

Charles found Arthur behind the stables, sitting on a haybale and watching the sky as it lit up with the first hints of dawn. The wolf sat beside the hunter, leaning back against the side of the barn.

“How is he?”

“Alright,” Arthur answered, voice tired. “I just needed to get out of the room for a while.”

“No shame in that.”

Arthur had been resting his chin in his hand, and he straightened a bit now, looking upward to where the sky was still dark. “It’s…weird. I’m happy he’s okay, but at the same time…it’s so strange to look him in the eyes, or just say hello.”

“He did a lot of things to hurt you,” Charles said plainly. “It may not have been his fault, but it’s hard to separate the face from the actions.”

“Does that make me a bad son?” Arthur asked quietly, and Charles put his hand over Arthur’s resting on the hay.

“No. And it doesn’t make him a bad father.”

Arthur let out a sigh, and looked down at the grass under his feet, digging the heel of his boot into the mud. “Just gotta…tough it out. It’ll get better with time I suppose.”

“You’re not alone, Arthur,” Charles said, squeezing the hand he held. “Okay?”

Arthur turned his gaze from the sky to Charles, giving the wolf a small smile. They didn’t speak for a while after that, content with the peacefulness of the early morning air and comfortable in each other’s company as they watched the sun rise on a new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!  
> Thanks for reading to the final chapter; I hope you've enjoyed the story ^u^  
> It's very open-ended...I have an inkling of an idea for future continuation of this alternate universe (kinda want to throw Lenny into the mix). I'm curious about how Hosea and Dutch's relationship would go after all this and how Arthur and Charles's friendship could progress in something...more (hint hint). But we'll see what happens.  
> I appreciate all the comments and kudos very much! They inspire me to keep writing ♥


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